


Drops of Jupiter

by twentysevenseconds



Category: That '70s Show
Genre: Affairs, Childhood Friends, Cute Kids, First Love, Returning Home, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24620659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentysevenseconds/pseuds/twentysevenseconds
Summary: The year is 1984. Eric never returned from Africa – instead he wrote a bestselling novel about the friends and family he left behind. When he finally returns to Point Place, he finds that things are very different from how he left them. E/D, J/H, K/B
Relationships: Eric Forman/Donna Pinciotti, Jackie Burkhart/Fez, Jackie Burkhart/Steven Hyde, Kitty Forman/Red Forman, Michael Kelso/Brooke Rockwell
Comments: 10
Kudos: 68





	1. Prologue

Eric's shoes squeaked on the hardwood floor as he walked off the elevator and headed for his door. He paused at the end of the hall to fish his keys out of his back pocket, and the heavy oak door clicked open when he turned the knob, his Star Wars keychain clanging against his hand. A long sigh escaped when he gently kicked off his shoes in the general direction of the floor mat and shook his arms loose from his sport jacket; immediately his hands went to loosen his tie and his body turned towards the fridge, his shoulders slumping with obvious fatigue.

The blinking red light of his answering machine caught his eye as he popped open a beer, and he sipped at the bubbling amber liquid as he reached across the counter to press down the 'messages' button.

"Hi Eric, this is your mother." He smiled when Kitty's voice echoed through the empty apartment, and he set down his beer for a second to look out the oversized picture window behind him. The twinkling lights of New York City greeted him, and he smiled faintly. Sometimes living in a penthouse above Central Park was great.

"I just wanted to check up on you. You're having a big week, and you know your father and I are very proud of you, honey, but don't work yourself too hard. Make sure you eat fruits and vegetables. And get enough sleep. When Marie Lawrence's son went away to college, he -" Eric frowned when the message cut off, but made a mental note to call his parents tomorrow morning. He pressed the 'skip' button when the red light continued to blink.

"Hey, Forman, it's Rob. It's about, ah, nine o' clock. I was just wondering if you're going tonight or not. Call me either way." He smirked; he'd actually forgotten all about Daryl's party. Not like he really wanted to go anyways, but make that two calls he had to make in the morning.

Quickly losing interest in his answering machine, Eric yawned and popped open the freezer, rooting around to find something edible while his third message played.

"Eric? It's Bill. I need you to call me tonight when you get home, we've got some things to go over. Nothing serious, just some technicalities. Congrats again on a great opening day. I'll be waiting for your call."

He let a sigh slip out as the message ended, and he set the timer on his oven and slipped his frozen dinner onto the rack before stepping back and reaching for the phone, licking the ice off his fingers before dialing his producer's number and plopping down in his armchair in front of the TV. He flicked through the selection of channels as he listened to the dial tone, finally settling on an old episode of Get Smart.

"Hello?"

"Bill," Eric greeted him amicably. "Whaddaya know?"

"Eric!" His tone was warm, and Eric turned the volume down on the TV a few notches out of courtesy. "Well, you tell me, Mr. Movie."

Eric snorted. "Yeah," he mumbled, sounding probably less energetic than he should have. "Cool stuff, huh?"

"Really cool stuff," Bill agreed easily. "And apparently we're not the only ones who think so; we just got the figures about an hour ago, Pond came in second in the box-office! That's gonna mean bonuses for everyone, my friend."

"Great!" He tried feebly, but cringed. His enthusiasm even sounded fake to his own ears.

Bill seemed to sense this, and he hesitated before clearing his throat. "Listen, man, I know you're just about ready to be done with all of this -"

"No, no," Eric interrupted congenially. "I'm just tired, Bill. This is good news. Really." He shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. He wasn't lying; he was glad his movie had done well. He silently reminded himself to be on his best behavior. Sometimes he forgot that Bill wasn't just his friend, he was talking to his producer.

"Um. Good, good. 'Cause the production team wants to wait awhile and see how things go, but judging from your hot start tonight, I just wanted to let you know that there's a chance you may be offered a sequel deal."

Eric just stared blankly at his armrest. "But there is no sequel."

"I know." There was a pregnant pause; Bill seemed uncomfortable. "They want you to write one."

Eric just shifted, unsure of how to respond. On one hand, this whole movie thing was all he had now, and he knew he had to preserve that somehow. But he had been dreading this day since the moment this whole process started; the day he'd have to admit that he actually couldn't write, that this whole stupid thing had just been a fluke; a stroke of dumb luck. "Bill..." he started wearily.

"No, wait. Don't answer yet. You can think on it if you want." Bill's voice was desperate, and Eric shut his mouth slowly. "I just, ah, I have a suggestion for you, to get your creative juices flowing again."

"Bill, I don't care how much you beg, I'm not going to Reno with you and Bah again," Eric grinned, teasing his old friend.

"Shut up, doof. I'm actually being serious, here. Me and John, well, we were thinking, you know, you write really well when you're passionate about something. And you, well, you tend to be really passionate about one thing in particular; your past."

Eric felt his stomach lurch, and he swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "Yeah, so?"

"So, I don't know, maybe you could, like... like go back to your hometown for the weekend or something. You know, get some inspiration."

Eric blew out a breath. "Yeah, right. I don't think so. C'mon, Bill. You know about... well, you just, you know why I... I can't do that."

Bill had a response, but it was lost on Eric, because Get Smart had gone to commercials, and suddenly the grainy image of a seven year old boy with knobby knees and a backwards baseball cap filled the screen, following the standard green screen listing the rating and seal of the motion picture association of America. A man's voice provided commentary as the boy ran around a backyard barefoot.

"Nineteen-sixty-seven… I was 7 years old. A lot happened that year. The Packers won the first Super Bowl …Evil Knievel jumped his motorcycle over 16 cars lined up in a row… And I graduated first grade at Glenhurst Elementary."

Suddenly a young girl with auburn braids jumped into the frame, chasing the boy around the yard as they both laughed.

"That was also the summer Dawn came to us. Her family moved in next door, and for me, it was love at first sight."

The scene on the TV changed. Now the boy and girl were catching fireflies in a small field.

"The only thing we had in common was that she had moved here from Indiana, and I had once heard of Indiana; but it didn't matter. We became fast friends, and then somewhere between the scraped knees and skipping rocks down by the reservoir, we fell in love."

A montage of clips from the movie played. The two kids were riding their bikes down a sidewalk, playing basketball together, sipping hot cocoa atop a large snowdrift, their faces rosy and their mittened hands overlapping. They got older as the scenes progressed, the clips getting shorter as they reached adolescence. The boy and girl were all dressed up, they were holding hands and walking along a beach, they were kissing on a front porch.

"When she smiled, I smiled. When she cried, I cried. Every single thing that happened to me that mattered, in some way, had to do with her."

Suddenly, the screen went black. "Jack and Diane" by John Cougar Mellencamp started to play in the background, and a charismatic commentator started to talk over the music as the words "Based off of the best selling novel by Eric Forman" flashed across the screen.

"The critics are raving over "Small Pond". The classic story of teenage love and loss with a fresh spin, audiences will fall in love with "Small Pond's" real approach to life, love, and one young man's harrowing journey of self discovery as he finds for himself that love doesn't always prevail and that sometimes not every road leads home."

The camera zoomed in on a close-up of a couple's clasped hands. Slowly, the hands disentangled themselves and broke apart. The words "Now Playing" glared back at Eric from the empty spot where the young couple used to be, and just like that, the screen had switched to a Taco Bell commercial. He blinked a few times, realizing that his heartbeat had sped up a bit.

"Eric? Are you still there?"

Bill's voice brought him back down to earth, and he shook his head to clear his thoughts.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice thin. "Sorry. I just... got distracted for a second." He flicked the TV off as he stood up and headed towards the picture window.

"So what do you say?" Bill's voice was still hopeful. "Can I go ahead and send you the plane tickets?"

Eric just shook his head, but upon realizing that Bill of course couldn't see that, he sighed into the phone. "I don't think so, Bill. I really don't see how going to Point Place is gonna help me write."

There was a long pause, and Bill's voice lowered when he said, patiently, "Look, Eric, I know why you don't wanna go back there, man. I get it. I do. It's just... you've got to face your demons sometime, you know? That's the stuff good movies are made of."

"With all due respect, I've gone five years, man. Who's to say I can't last another fifty?"

Bill didn't reply right away, and for a fleeting moment, Eric thought he'd hung up. His voice sounded tired when he spoke a moment later. "Look, I know I can't make you do this, but I really think it'd be good for you. I mean, you haven't even seen your parents in five years. Don't you miss them? Wanna see what they're up to?" His question appeared to be rhetorical, as he continued, "And, I mean, have you ever considered that maybe the reason you can't write about this anymore is because you haven't gotten the closure you need?"

Eric just hoisted himself up on his kitchen counter and glared at the oven timer that was telling him he still had to wait another five long minutes for his frozen chicken pot pie.

Bill sighed. "Alright man, well, I've done all I can now. I'll have the tickets sent over tomorrow, then it's on you. Just think long and hard about this, okay? This sequel could be a deal breaker."

They said their goodbyes, and after Eric hung up his phone he looked around his apartment dejectedly. Aside from the Star Wars posters that hung over his couch, it looked barely lived in. He sighed, realizing that he missed having someone to talk to, even if that person was his semi-annoying agent.

He studied his hands until his eyes felt strained, but finally he slid off the counter and opened the coat closet near the front door. He sighed and shot an 'I can't believe I'm doing this' look towards the ceiling, but proceeded to pull out his suitcase.

A/N: Hi there, I'm new here at AO3, but a long-time fan of That 70's Show and writer of fan fiction. I have posted over at FFN in the past, and am in the process of moving this story over here.


	2. Chapter II

"It's the next left," Eric offered to the taxi driver sitting next to him, and the grim man turned to him and nodded briskly before flipping on his blinker and turning down the street Eric grew up on.

He smiled faintly as he watched the houses go by. There was a time when he'd known each of the families that lived in those houses, was friends with all of their kids, and knew the name of their dog. Those days were clearly over now, though, he realized as the taxi pulled up to the curb between his and Donna's old houses lazily. He'd be lying if he claimed that he wasn't sneaking glances at the house next door as the taxi driver helped him get his luggage out of the trunk.

'Bob and Midge Pinciotti' had been scratched off the mailbox, something he knew he should have been prepared for, as he knew from his parents that Bob had moved to Florida four years ago, but it still felt a little like a sucker punch to the gut. Still, it looked like the new owners were taking care of the house well; the lawn was neatly trimmed, someone had planted new flowers along the walkway, and a small orange swing set was nestled behind the large oak tree in the side yard.

"That'll be thirty-two fifty." The cab driver's gruff voice broke Eric from his reverie, and he cleared his throat and reached around to his back pocket, extracted the money from his wallet and handed it to the man.

"Thanks for the lift," he offered a small smile which was not returned by the cab driver, and turned towards the house he was standing in front of.

His childhood home looked mostly the same, he drew in conclusion as he headed up the driveway, suitcase in hand. He was surprised to find that the Vista Cruiser was still parked in it's stall in the garage, though a newer model Honda had replaced his father's old orange one. They'd taken the basketball hoop down, he noted, but the patio chairs near the sliding kitchen door were the same gaudy patterned print as always. Even his obstructed view of the kitchen through the glass door proved that his parents hadn't really re-decorated a thing in his absence; the same wallpaper covered the kitchen panels, and the cluttered chest of shelves was still sandwiched between the counters and the door. The only thing that made him blink and take a step back was the fact that about five young children were scattered throughout the kitchen; one hanging off the counters, some sitting at the table, a few more splayed out across the tile floor. And his mother, his happy, cheerful mother, was right in the center of them all.

Reaching the sliding door, he set down his suitcase heavily and peered in through the door. He was unsure of the protocol, here. If you've been away for five years, without so much as a single visit, do you still have the right to walk right into your kitchen? Do you knock? Do you just wait to be noticed?

Luckily Eric's problem solved itself, because seconds later Kitty Forman looked up, and when her eyes fell across her son for the first time in five years, her face lit up. "ERIC!"

She crossed the kitchen faster than a woman her age ought to be able to, and had thrown open the sliding door before Eric could manage to get any words out at all. She wrapped him in a hug, and Eric bent down slightly so that he could bury his face in her shoulder. It's funny how you don't realize how much you missed someone until you see them again. It's funny how a mother's love can reach across continents, soothe old wounds, and come back so easily.

"Mom," was all he was able to choke out, and after a long minute they finally pulled back, a wide smile stretched across Kitty's face and tears sparkling in her eyes.

"My baby's finally home." Her smile was so wide he wasn't sure how she could speak, but she reached up and threw another arm around his waist, pulling him close and leading him away from the door.

"Look at you," she murmured when they had moved a few steps. She patted his side. "You look so... so grown up." She smiled at her son, and even though she'd been vague, Eric knew what she meant. Although he'd never be bulky, he'd put on more weight in his arms and chest, courtesy of his apartment building's five star workout facilities in the basement. On lonely nights, when he had no parties to go to, or agents to shoot the shit with, he'd head down to the gym for a few hours. It took his mind off of... other things. Still, he knew his new wired appearance was probably a shock to his mother, the discovery that he was no longer the skinny little boy she'd loved when he'd left.

Kitty left him no time for explanation, though, as she turned to the gaggle of kids who inhabited her kitchen. "Kids," she started with a happy giggle, "This is my son, Eric. Can everybody say 'hi' to him?"

"Hi, Eric," the chorus rang out, most of them not even looking up from the coloring books he could now see they were working diligently on.

Kitty turned back to Eric, smiling, and apparently read the confusion on his face. "Oh, honey, you forgot that I run a daycare now, didn't you?"

"Ah," Eric nodded his head and bit his lip, wondering how that fact could've slipped his mind. This was his mother after all. They talked on the phone every Sunday night. Had their short chats really become so fake and on-the-surface that they no longer shared key information like this with each other? Or had he just not been listening?

Kitty didn't seem offended, though, she just continued smiling at him. "Well, honey, I'll tell you what; it's almost five o' clock, so the rest of the parents will be arriving in the next couple of minutes for pick-ups. Why don't you just head upstairs to your old room and unpack your things, and then later your father and I want to take you out for dinner." She glanced at her watch to confirm her estimate, then nodded and looked up again. "He should be home from the store in about a half an hour, so we'll plan on leaving then, okay? There's lemonade in the fridge if you get thirsty, and cookies in the tin, but don't ruin your appetite, please."

He just nodded obediently and headed for the stairs, but was mesmerized for a moment by the way she herded the kids into the living room gently, stopping to flash him one last smile before the door swung shut behind her. He couldn't help but think; if he'd overlooked his mother's new career, what else had he missed? Being gone for five years is a long time, and he couldn't help but think, perhaps there was a lot that he had blocked out, simply because he hadn't wanted to hear it.

His parents had left his old room the same, which surprised him. He always kind of thought you had to be unexpectedly killed by a bus or something for that to happen. But his threaded bedspread was the same, right down to the Spiderman sheets, and his Farah Fawcett poster still hung behind his door; a nearby shelf held all of his Star Wars memorabilia. Leaving his suitcase in the middle of the floor, he reached out and wrapped his hand around a Luke Skywalker action figure. He smiled wistfully. God, he really hadn't realized back then just how good he'd had it. Not a thing in the world to worry about, loving parents, great friends. He swallowed; a great girl.

Suddenly curious, he crossed over to his bed and lifted up the mattress. The picture he'd been looking for fluttered out mockingly, and he snatched it up when it hit the floor. There she was, wearing her red prom dress from senior year. Her smile was infectious, her red hair sprayed across her pale shoulders. It was his favorite picture of her.

The last he'd heard of Donna, she'd gone off to college. Which one, he wasn't sure. His mother had just mentioned that she was trying to get her journalist degree, and hadn't said anything more about her. There'd been a million questions he'd wanted to ask; was she dating?, had she dyed her hair back to red?, did she ever talk about him?; but even though he desperately wanted to ask, he knew that if he was honest with himself, he was afraid of what her answers would be. So he didn't ask, and his mother didn't tell. It was an unspoken system that had worked out well for the past five years.

He stretched when he stood up, and hesitated a moment before slipping the picture into his back pocket instead of back under the mattress. Not caring to weigh the consequences or meaning of what he'd just done, Eric yawned and ran a hand through his hair, knowing secretly that he wasn't even going to unpack, since he'd be leaving Sunday. He just couldn't bear to break the news to his mother's hopeful face, so he'd have to make up an excuse. That shouldn't be hard; he was great at making up excuses, these days.

Suddenly remembering the lemonade his mother had claimed was in the fridge, he set off downstairs to wet his whistle after quickly changing into a nicer button down shirt. As he walked down the short hallway, he looked at the virtual family shrine his mother had lined up and down the wall. There were pictures of he and Laurie at the beach, on Santa's lap at the mall, covered head to toe in bubbles in the bathtub. One of he and Red squinting into the sun, his father's hand placed stoically on his shoulder, and another of Kitty and Eric dressed in matching aprons, flour on their faces and in their hair, wearing matching smiles. One more caught his eye; it was at the very end of the hall, just before the staircase. It was a picture of he, Fez, Hyde, Jackie, Kelso, and... her, all dressed up, the night of that lame disco they'd gone to their junior year.

He was pulled in by the picture, as if he was in some sort of trance, and he smiled when he got closer. God, they were such dorks, he laughed inwardly to himself, ghosting his fingers over the outfit he'd thrown together, and rolling his eyes at Kelso's tight, tight pants. And yet, he thought, they looked so... happy. All of them did. He missed those days.

The familiar squeak of the second-to-last step startled him, and he turned around to come face to face with his father.

Red had aged well; actually, he looked mostly the same. He had a few new wrinkles and his hair was a little bit more patchy and thin, but the expression on his face was surprised. "Oh. Um," he muttered gruffly, looking unsure of what to say.

"Hi, dad," Eric offered, taking a step closer to his father and shoving his hands in his pockets.

Red relaxed. "Hi, son." Awkward pause. "It's, ah, it's been a long time."

"Yeah," Eric nodded, unsure of what to say next. Finally, he sighed and opened his arms for a hug. Red just stared at him for a long moment, looking more uncomfortable than Eric had ever seen him, and finally extended one hand for a handshake. Confused, Eric shook his hand and dropped his other arm.

They held their shake for just a second longer than was strictly necessary, and stood there in silence for a few moments, eyeing each other unsurely. "Well, I've got to go change for dinner," Red broke the silence, and Eric just stared at him, taken aback. He'd been gone for five years, and his own father had nothing to say to him?

"Sure, dad," Eric sighed, and Red looked relieved.

"I'll see you in about twenty minutes," Red raised a hand as he opened the door to the master bedroom. He paused before he stepped inside, though. "Oh, and, you're not wearing that shirt, are you?" He paused, and Eric looked down at his purple and blue plaid shirt. "Cause it makes you look like a dumbass."

With that he closed the door, and Eric managed a small smile at the thought that even the big-shot movie guy still needs to be brought down a peg or two sometimes.

He had just helped himself to a chocolate chip cookie when the swinging kitchen door pushed open. Expecting to see his mother standing there, Eric was surprised when a small girl with auburn hair tumbled forward and grabbed a yellow sippy cup off the counter.

Startled, he set the cookie down and glanced at the child, who was now peering up at him over the brim of her cup, her green eyes bright and innocent. They stared at each other for another ten seconds before Eric cleared the air awkwardly.

"Um. Hello."

She removed one hand from the cup to offer him a wave before she set the cup down and wiped at her juice mustache with her arm. Eric shifted his weight nervously; as a general rule, kids didn't like him. He didn't know what it was, he just found he didn't know how to interact with them. And all of the staring that this one was doing certainly wasn't helping. Still, he felt the need to say something, so he offered, meekly, "What's your name?"

"Natalia," the little girl answered matter-of-factly as she reached her hands behind her head to adjust her ponytail. She looked to be four, maybe five years old.

He nodded. "I'm Eric." He reached down to extend a hand for her to shake, and was delighted when she giggled and wrapped her tiny hand around his, clearly excited that she was being treated like a grown-up.

"I know who you are," she told him, eyes wide when she let go of his hand, "Miss Kitty is your gramma."

He smiled. "She's my mom," he corrected her gently, already starting to fidget when he realized that he'd run out of conversation points. There were about three seconds of silence before Natalia's eyes lit up.

"Is that Luke Skywalker?" She bellowed in that way little kids do when they're overly excited, and Eric realized, blushing, that he was still holding the action figure he'd found in his room. Natalia grabbed for it excitedly though, and he couldn't help but grin when she set it on the counter and started making swishing noises with the light saber Luke held in his right hand.

"You like Star Wars?" He asked her, half in disbelief that such a young child shared his favorite pastime.

"Yeah," Natalia answered in between making Luke jump from the counter to the table, "I've seen all the movies."

"Me too!" Eric told her excitedly, in a voice not too different than that of an excited five year old. Natalia looked up at him in surprise at the high pitch in his voice and let out a little giggle, thinking that he was kidding.

"You're silly," she told him with a grin, and Eric was only a little disappointed when she dropped the action figure on the table a second later, already forgotten. "Wanna see my new puppy? Her name's Sasha." Her voice peaked hopefully, and she reached for his hand.

"Oh," Eric stammered as her tiny hand curled around his. "Um, I don't think we can just, you know... leave. You have to wait here for your mommy or daddy to come get you."

"I don't have a daddy," she told him without skipping a beat, and Eric felt his heart fall to his knees. This sweet little Star Wars loving girl didn't have a dad who cared enough to stick around? He felt a surge of anger, and for a brief moment, he understood how Red probably felt most of the time. Dumbass.

The moment passed quickly, though, because Natalia was still tugging him along towards the kitchen door. "C'mon," she begged, "I live real close. You can see her from Miss Kitty's driveway."

Wait... what? "Talia," he started, the nickname coming to him easily and rolling off his tongue, "Wait a second." Because to his recollection, the only house you could see the backyard of from his driveway was... well, the Pinciotti's house. The Pinciotti's old house, he corrected himself, and he knelt down and was about to ask Natalia if she had an orange swing set when the living room door swung open to reveal none other than Donna Pinciotti. She was still young, and she was still pretty, but a look of complete shock clouded over her features when her eyes fell across Eric and stayed there.

"Mommy!"

A/N: Thank you so much for the kudos and comments, everyone! I plan to keep updating this a few times per week. :)


	3. III

She'd dyed her hair back to red. That was the first thing he processed, as he took a step closer and grabbed onto the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned white. It was slightly curled, and cascaded down her back like a waterfall. For a moment, he couldn't look away. She wore a black headband and a professional looking skirt and pressed white blouse; she was clutching a small black briefcase in her right hand. Her beautiful hazel eyes were just as vibrant as ever, but they betrayed how surprised she was; her lips slightly parted and her eyebrows quirked. But still, she looked... better than ever.

"Hello, Donna," he murmured when he'd regained the power of speech, his greeting accompanied by a small grin - a knee-jerk reaction.

She, on the other hand, didn't seem to know what to say. She opened her mouth, and then closed it again. A small smile flashed across her face, too, for just the briefest of moments before it disappeared again, replaced by a practiced detached expression.

He'd been about to say something, anything, when suddenly Donna's legs were pummeled by Natalia.

"Mommy, Miss Kitty took us to the park today, and I got to go on the SWINGS!" You'd think that Natalia had just declared that she'd qualified for the Olympics, such was her level of excitement, and her daughter's outburst seemed to jar Donna back into the present. She tore her eyes away from Eric's, and smiled at Natalia's wild hand gestures. "...'cause an ANT was on his shoe! Isn't that funny, Mama?"

Eric, in the meantime, was standing awkwardly in the corner. He felt strange; like he was in someone else's house instead of his own, and his brain was working furiously to put together the pieces. His eyes traveled up and down the scene in front of him; Donna's professional clothing, the leather briefcase at her feet, and the child that was resting comfortably on her hip.

"...And then after snack, we got to color pictures, mommy! I picked a flower, cuz I know you like 'em."

Donna smiled, but Eric could see that it was obviously forced as she slid her daughter to the floor. "That's great, baby. You wanna go get it so you can show it to me?"

"Yeah!" Natalia bellowed appreciatively, and barreled through the swinging kitchen door towards the living room.

With the energetic four-year-old out of the picture, an uncomfortable silence fell across the room. Eric was still reeling, his eyebrows lifted so high they almost disappeared in his hairline, and Donna took a deep breath and held onto her briefcase strap a little tighter.

"So you're a mom, huh?" Eric had finally come to his senses, and he swallowed hard as he moved a couple of steps closer. "I, um. I didn't know that."

Donna just smirked. "Well, there's a lot you miss when you vanish into the ether for five years."

Eric just nodded, defeated. He supposed he deserved that. Donna was fidgeting uncomfortably, bouncing her weight from foot to foot. He racked his brain desperately for something to say; anything. Luckily, he was saved, though, when Donna broke the silence.

"So," she started, eying him uncertainly, "I didn't, um, I didn't know you were back."

"Oh. Yeah. It was all kind of... kind of sudden. My agent wanted me to come back for the weekend, just to, you know, get some inspiration or whatever." He made a 'whatever' face, but her unamused expression didn't change.

"So you leave..." she trailed off, waiting for him to finish her sentence.

"Sunday."

"Of course you do." She raised one eyebrow before releasing a sigh, confusing Eric. He was about to ask if that was a good thing or a bad thing when Natalia bounded through the door, clutching a piece of paper with a sloppy purple flower drawn on it.

"Lookit!" She thrust the paper under her mother's nose, and Donna ooh'ed and ahh'ed politely.

"It's very good, Talia. We'll have to hang it up on the fridge." She held the paper up for Eric to see, and he caught the message her eyes were flashing him.

"Oh, wow." He nodded, eying the blob of purple and green that really looked more like a rhinoceros than a flower. "I like it."

Natalia giggled at all of the praise.

"What do you say?" Donna prodded her child gently, in the tone that mothers across the universe have perfected.

"Thank you, Mr. Eric," Natalia recited, clasping her hands behind her back and hopping from foot to foot anxiously.

Donna nodded, and pressed a hand against her daughter's back lightly. "Okay. Why don't you go wait for me on the driveway. Just be careful that you don't go near the street. I'll be right there."

Eric watched Natalia skip out the sliding kitchen door out of the corner of his eye, a slight smile on his face. She really did look just like Donna; right down to the red converse on her feet. But her eyes... there was something about her eyes...

He was interrupted when Donna cleared her throat, and he looked at her. "Well, um, it was... nice seeing you again, Eric," she ventured half-heartedly, gathering her briefcase and adjusting her suit jacket.

But Eric was already sick of the small-talk, and he moved to grab her arm as Donna started to move around him towards the door. Thoughts of the last summer he'd spent here were swirling through his head; thoughts of carefree love, an all-night goodbye celebration at the end of that September, and a little girl with auburn hair and green eyes.

"When was Natalia born?" The question came out as more of a demand that he'd planned, and Donna's eye wouldn't meet his.

When she looked up at him again, though, her eyes were set in a sort of cold determination. "June of 1980." There was a beat, and they both stared at each other so long Eric began to wonder if they were in a staring contest he hadn't been informed of. "She turned four on the 24th," Donna offered in a kinder voice, but it still cut Eric to the core.

"Four?" He repeated, his eyebrow raised as he tried to do the math in his head without making it obvious.

"Four." Donna confirmed, raising her eyebrow, too.

That appeared to be the extent of their conversation, as Donna's shoulder slumped, and she moved to slide around him once again. She stopped with her hand on the door handle, though, and turned just enough to make eye contact with Eric.

"But, don't worry," she told him in a soft voice, after checking to make sure that Natalia was out of earshot, "She's not yours."

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Peg-leg Pete's Swashbuckling Pizza Parlor?" Eric read the sign aloud to himself in disbelief.

After his encounter with Donna, he'd decided to go for a quick walk while his parents showered and got ready for dinner. He'd started out on the trail behind the park, but about half-way through he'd gotten thirsty and decided to stop by the Hub and grab a Coke or something.

But apparently, his teenage hang-out was under new management, Eric noted with disgust as the fluorescent pirate sign hanging above the door "Arr'd" at him amicably.

Still, a quick glance at his wristwatch told him he had another half hour to kill, so he followed a young couple in the door and was immediately taken aback. There wasn't an untouched square inch in the place. The linoleum had been replaced with the fakest looking wood he'd ever seen before in his life, each table sported a ship-in-a-bottle centerpiece, and "A Pirate's Life For Me" blared over the loudspeakers. He was about to turn around and head right back out again when he heard someone call his name.

"Forman! FORMAN!?"

Sure enough, there sat Michael Kelso, not ten feet away from Eric. He was sitting by himself at a table; it was the same one they always used to sit at when they were in high school, although now it had the imprint of a scull carved into the tabletop instead of a red checkered table cloth. He was waving spastically, a huge grin on his face.

"Hey, man! I didn't know you were back!" Kelso engulfed Eric in a bear hug as soon as he was close enough, and Eric grinned and patted his old friend's back. "Here, get anything you want, my treat." He waved a waitress over, and grinned at Eric. "This place is great!"

"What can I get you?" The blonde waitress snapped her gum impatiently, and Eric wrinkled his brow. Since when did this place use waiters?

"Uh, I'll just take a Coke."

"You mean a bottle of rum?" Snap.

Eric just blew out a chuckle through his nose and lifted his eyebrows. "That works, too."

When she left with his order, Eric turned back to Kelso. "Yeah, I'm just back for the weekend. It's good to see you." He smiled the first genuine smile he could remember in such a long time, and sat down in the chair Kelso was eagerly gesturing to.

"You too, buddy, you too! God, I mean, you're like this big shot writer guy, now, man. Your book was so awesome!"

Eric just grinned. "Wait a minute. Michael Kelso actually read a book?" He teased him lightly. Kelso just got a sheepish look on his face.

"Well, um, actually, no. I saw the movie, though!" His voice dropped, and he leaned in conspiratorially. "And can I just say thank you for going easy on me. I mean, I didn't even have a name in the credits, just 'Dumb Guy at Bowling Alley'."

"Oh, Kelso, man," Eric fidgeted nervously, but Kelso cut him off before he could go on.

"Oh, no, no. Believe me, it's fine. I mean, I saw what you did to Donna and Hyde, or should I say "Dawn and Seek." He tried to wink, but it came off as a weird twitch.

"You know, that wasn't - I mean," he sighed, and his shoulders dropped. "Well, anyways, look, man, I'm sorry. About the whole movie thing. If I offended you in any way-"

"Oh no. The only way you could've offended me was if you hired an ugly guy to play me. Rest assured, I greatly appreciated the Steve Martin cameo."

The topic soon turned stale, so Kelso caught Eric up on all of the small town gossip: Kathy McCray and Tom Ripley were engaged, Marsha Lewis's little sister got suspended from high school for lighting up during Math class, and Kelly Johnson had flunked out of college. Soon they were laughing just like old times, but when the small talk ran out, Eric cleared his throat. "So, man, how's your life?"

Kelso's grin stretched so wide Eric was sure it would fall off his face. "Great, man. Brooke and I, we got married last year."

"That's right," Eric nodded. "My mom told me about that. Congratulations, man. And how old is Betsy now?"

"She turned six two weeks ago."

Eric just smiled. "That's great."

"Here," Kelso dug into his back pocket and produced a billfold. "Wanna see a picture? I've gotta use the, heh, head." He motioned in the direction of the bathroom, and Eric nodded, smirking.

Eric inspected the picture as Kelso scampered off. It was a family shot; Kelso, Brooke, and Betsy were all dressed in blue jeans and white shirts. They looked like they were on a beach. Eric's eyes lingered on the way Kelso's arms were wrapped protectively around his family. This wasn't the friend he'd left behind. This was some responsible family man. Sure he was still just a tad vain, and sure he still loved pirates, but he was, well... grown up. Eric smiled, and reached into his pocket for his pen so that he could jot his thought down on a napkin. Maybe his agent wasn't crazy. Maybe there was inspiration to be had, right here in Point Place.

But, speaking of inspiration's sake...

After a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure that no one was paying him any attention, Eric slid over onto Kelso's chair, which was nearer the wall, and ran his fingers along the knotty wood, right near the ridge where the edge of the doorframe ran into the smooth texture. Even though they'd sprayed some cheap, glossy covering on the walls since his last visit, he couldn't help wondering if it was still here...

His fingers moved of their own accord; they knew the spot, knew the feel of the worn old heart-shaped, initial-filled carving, yet it appeared to be in vain, because the only thing he found was the declaration "Lexi luvs Zach, 4real", and, of course, the obligatory "where's the beef?" inscription from some kid who thought he was original.

Biting back a sigh, he barely returned to his seat before the bathroom door swung open, and Kelso plopped himself down across from him with a lopsided grin. Eric knew that Red and Kitty would be almost ready to go by now and that he really ought to be heading home soon, but he couldn't help but quell just a little bit of his curiosity. "So, Kelso, how's everyone else doin'?" Read: how's Donna doin'?

Kelso, of course, did not pick up on his cue. "Oh, you know, pretty well. Jackie and Fez are still dating. They still live in our old apartment on Fifth. And Hyde is working at this new record store they put in at the mall about three years ago; I think he's the assistant manager, now." He blinked, and appeared to be trying to remember if he forgot anyone. "Oh, and Donna. Um," he looked at Eric unsurely.

"I ran into her today at my parents' house," Eric offered nonchalantly, chewing lightly on the tip of his straw.

"So then you know?" Kelso looked nervous.

"I know that she has a daughter that no one told me about, yes." He leaned forward in his chair and set his Coke down heavily. "Seriously, man. What's the deal with that?"

Kelso just shrugged. "Oh, right. Natalia. I dunno. It just didn't seem like the type of thing you tell somebody over the phone. Besides, it's not like you're the dad or anything."

Eric leaned back in his chair once again, eying Kelso. "So I've heard."

Kelso, blessedly unaware of the way Eric's shoulders had knotted up, began casually, picking at his napkin with a straw, "Donna says the dad's some doctor from out east. She hooked up with him at this party a couple weeks after you left. He flew back to Boston before she found out she was pregnant, and I guess she's just never told him." He shrugged his shoulders and glanced up. "I mean, we've never even met the guy."

After a well-timed burp, Kelso continued. "But, I mean, it's not like Big D ever needed his help or anything, that's for sure. Bob left the house to Donna when he moved to Florida three years ago; she and Tal live there now. Donna writes for the newspaper. They get by just fine, man," Kelso patted Eric's arm reassuringly, obviously misconstruing the look on Eric's face as concern for their well-being.

Eric just nodded, limply, still struggling to process all of this new information. He must have had a strange look on his face, because when he looked up, Kelso was staring at him oddly.

"You okay, man? Cause you look sorta weird. Like that time I ate too many Pringles and got sick in the airport bathroom." He paused and sort of looked off into the distance for a moment, a goofy smile on his face. "Man, that was awesome." He shook his head for a moment in wonderment of the apparently fond memory, before snapping back to reality when Eric sighed.

"I don't... I dunno. It's just like.. I guess everything is a lot more different than I'd thought it'd be. Kinda like, well, nothing's the same anymore." He couldn't help it that his tone was gloomy and he had to restrain his eyes from wandering over to the bald spot on the wall.

Kelso just nodded, in a moment of rare maturity. He was probably thinking about squirrels, but his eyes were present. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, you haven't been back since..." He squinted his eyes, trying to remember.

"1979," Eric offered glumly. "That September."

"Yeah. Well, you know, things change, Forman. Even in Point Place." His expression was teasing, but Eric picked up on a bitter edge to his voice that indicated that this conversation was probably over.

"Right," Eric nodded and took one last sip of his soda. "Well, thanks a billion for the soda, buddy. You're sure I can't pay for it?" He pulled his billfold out of his back pocket and waved it in front of Kelso's face tantalizingly, but Kelso just chuckled.

"Nah, I got it man." They both stood up awkwardly. "But, hey, do you wanna maybe get together later on this week? Shoot some pool? Or, hey, we could go to a Brewers game or something..."

Eric just frowned remorsefully. "Can't. I leave Sunday."

He felt like he'd just kicked a puppy, what with the way Kelso's face completely dropped. "Oh yeah. Oh, that's right. Um, okay then, ah, I'll just... I'll see you later then."

"Don't worry, man. I won't be a stranger anymore," Eric flashed him a half-hearted grin. "I think I've already burned too many bridges."

The two men said their goodbyes, and Kelso sat down in his booth again, smiling wistfully, thinking about his friend. The blonde waitress approached him with a tray of food. "One Buccaneer Burger kid's meal," she recited in a bored tone of voice, setting the plate down in front of him. Kelso just pouted at her.

"But my friend just left. I'm not even hungry anymore."

She just snapped her gum at him, unamused. "Don't care; still have to pay."


	4. IV

"Fezzie!" Jackie giggled, squirming away from her foreign boyfriend, who was currently attempting (with some success) to tickle her. "Quit it! Mrs. Forman said I could pick the music."

"Yes, my pet, but you see, not everyone wants to listen to ABBA all night. We've got to mix things up a bit. Throw on some Peter Frampton." He wiggled the record in front of her face alluringly, and when she simply frowned at him, he leaned in to peck a kiss on her nose.

"Yeah, that's not really any better, Fez," Eric patted his friend on the back, overhearing their conversation as he passed by on his way to refill the ketchup container.

Jackie leaned in and kissed Fez's chest, mumbling something about "her disco king", when a slightly tipsy Kitty Forman made an announcement.

"The hotdogs are done, everyone!" She waved her guests over towards the grill and her less- than- thrilled husband, who sported a borrowed "Why limit 'happy' to an hour?" apron. "Cooooommmmeee and get 'em! Ahahaha!"

"I got dibs on a not burned one!" Kelso bellowed, immediately sidestepping his wife and daughter to secure his place in the forming line. As the rest of the party slowly followed in suit, Eric sighed and ambled to the back of the staggering cafeteria-esque line, twirling his Styrofoam plate impatiently. Forty minutes in, and he was already thoroughly unimpressed with his going-away barbeque.

He surveyed the decorations his mother had excitedly prepared this morning; there were a few lawn chairs here, a picnic table there, and lots and lots of twinkle lights. He smiled. He really did love his mom. She was such a nice lady. He decided that he wouldn't be a stranger anymore, if only for the sake of his mother. A few visits a year wouldn't kill him. It was the least he could do in return for all the love and forgiveness she'd shown him over the years. Although, the fact that Donna and Natalia lived right next door was a bit of a complication.

Donna. He sighed just thinking about her. What in the world was he gonna do about Donna? Granted, she didn't seem like she wanted anything to do with him, but he just didn't feel right about leaving things so… awkward between them. He tried to search for her among the crowd in his backyard. Surely his mother had invited she and Natalia…

Suddenly the shine of her retinted red hair caught his eye; the two of them had claimed a card table over near the fence. Natalia was squirming as her mother attempted to apply sunscreen to her cheeks. Donna was pretending to be so consumed by the aforementioned task that she didn't notice Eric standing just a few feet away from them. She looked very pretty today, he decided. Red was really her color. He wondered what she'd say if he told her that.

Their conversation yesterday had been short and terse; he hated that. It was just another silent reminder that the world as he'd once known it had completely ceased to exist.

"Hey."

He'd moseyed over casually, and she looked up and smiled at him wearily. He wasn't sure what to say to break the ice, but luckily his mind was made up for him when a tall, dark haired man came swooping over the fence that separated the two yards. "Hey, babe," he slimed, before ducking his head to press a hard peck to Donna's lips.

Eric halted in his tracks, and focused hard on making sure his mouth didn't hang open in disbelief as the man straightened up and gave him a smirk.

"Casey Kelso?"

"Surprised, Foreplay?" Casey paused to ruffle Natalia's hair briefly before crossing his arms smugly. Donna had apparently admitted defeat against her daughter's defiance, and was concentrating all her effort on softly squeezing shut the sunscreen bottle.

"I-um. Yeah," Eric breathed, taking in the scene before him. His eyes darted from the emblazed breast pocket of Casey's vest, proudly declaring 'Kelso Konstruction', to the unamused expression on Natalia's face. "Um. Haven't seen you in awhile."

"Yeah," Casey leered, clearly enjoying Eric's discomfort, "I heard you were back. Nice little movie you got there, pal. Really enjoyed one character in particular. 'Kenny Carmichael', I think was his name. Big, bad bully guy. Ring a bell?"

"Oh, ah, listen Casey," Eric murmured apologetically, resisting the urge to ring his hands and take several giant steps backwards, "I didn't-"

Casey quickly put up his hands in protest. "Naw, hey, man, I was just playing." His easygoing grin was back. "You don't need to explain to me why you felt the need to take a big ole' crap all over your hometown, you know? That's personal, man." He shook his head in amusement, then nudged Donna playfully. "But, ah, I heard that there's a barbeque somewhere around here that just can't go on without buns." He grinned, and produced two neatly-tied bags of bakery fresh hot dog buns from behind his back. He playfully tapped Natalia on the back of the head with one of the bags. "C'mon, Nat. I'll get ya a dog."

"Mooom," Natalia groaned in an underhanded whisper as Casey walked away, "I hate being called 'Nat'."

Donna just frowned sympathetically and brushed a stray hair off of her daughter's forehead. "I know, baby. Just keep reminding him." She patted her daughter on the head and gestured for her to get up. "Why don't you follow Casey, hm? I'll be right over."

Donna cleared her throat as Natalia trudged away. "Um, sorry about that." She glanced up at Eric apologetically, and he raised his eyebrows.

"Casey Kelso?" He teased her gently, easing himself into the chair across from her nonchalantly.

She crossed her arms, unamused. "What?"

"N-nothing," Eric cleared his throat and waved off her accusation. "I just... um.. didn't think he was really your type."

"Yeah, well, he's changed." Her voice had a cold, matter-of-fact edge to it that sent a shiver through Eric's spine. "He owns his own construction company now. Biggest in the greater-Kenosha area," she recited, raising her eyebrow for effect. "And he and I have always had a connection." Her voice dropped slightly in pitch, and she looked uneasy for a moment, "He's a nice guy now, Eric. You should give him a chance."

He took a beat to process her words. Despite the strong statements she was making, her expression was blank. "Yeah, no, I, um… I'll do that," Eric nodded, trying to determine if he should believe her. Survey says: no.

After an awkward beat of silence, Donna made a move to stand up. "Well, look, it was really um, great, to see you again... so. Have a good trip home, yeah?"

"Donna, wait." He blew out a sigh of discontent and grabbed her arm, and they both jumped at the spark of contact. Eric awkwardly yanked his hand back in embarrassment, but she stopped and lowered herself back into her seat slowly. "Look, can we, you know, talk? I just… I don't know, I feel like things were kind of weird between us yesterday…"

She quirked an eyebrow at him in disbelief. "Honestly? What did you expect?"

He exhaled softly, defeated. "I know, okay? But, I just.. how are you?"

Donna blew out a breath. She glanced over Eric's shoulder; Natalia was happily munching on some chips, sitting on a glowing Jackie's lap. Casey was nowhere in sight. She bit the inside of her lip and glanced back at him. His eyes were sincere; begging her to try with him. "I'm fine," she told him curtly. "I, uh, I write for the Gazette. I have my own column now. It's kind of cool." He flashed her a smile, and she returned it, tentatively. "And, you know, I just stay busy carting Natalia around everywhere. Play dates, swim class, piano lessons. We actually have to leave in a little bit; she has ballet at 5."

Eric smirked. "Donna Pinciotti's daughter does ballet?"

"She plays t-ball, too," Donna furrowed her eyebrows defensively.

"I was just kidding," he smiled at her, and her shoulders started to slowly relax.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Donna leaned back in her chair, refusing to meet his eyes but reluctantly returning the inquisition, "So, I guess you're staying pretty busy with your movie and everything, huh?"

"Yeah." Eric gave a half-smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I think it's like, third in the box-office right now or something…"

"Second," she corrected him softly. His eyes snapped up to meet hers, but she'd apparently become enthralled with moving around some dirt with her toe.

Eric cleared his throat, his face taking on a much more serious expression. "I actually wanted to talk to you about that, Donna. The whole book thing was just so spontaneous. I mean, I never thought anyone would want to read it… I was so surprised when they told me they wanted to publish it. But I'm," he swallowed hard, "Donna, I'm really sorry. About… everything."

"Oh, you're sorry, hm?" She looked up at him suddenly, her eyebrows turned down menacingly but her tone eerily calm. "'Cause I've gotta say; I loved it."

"Donna-"

"No, no. Really. In fact, I even memorized the third paragraph on page 216: 'Dawn's head was full of plans and her heart was full of dreams, but underneath her confident exterior she was just a scared little girl; the kind of gal who was so afraid to fly that she never did land.' "

Eric's mouth had fallen open. "No. Donna, no. That wasn't -"

"Sounds like you nailed me to a tee." He was horrified to see that her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. One dribbled out the corner of her eye as she stood up, but she refused to acknowledge it by brushing it away.

Eric stood up so fast he knocked over his lawn chair. "Donna, please," he pleaded with her softly, grabbing her arm as she back away from him. "Please let me explain."

But Donna was shaking her head slowly, and she gently twisted out of his grasp. "No. No, I have to leave now." She sniffed as she tucked her purse under her arm and began to move back towards the rest of the barbeque guests, gathered around the driveway. "I'm sorry Eric, but this is just… this is just too weird."

"What is?" He begged her, his forehead creased in anguish.

"Standing here talking to you like this is normal. Like nothing happened." She turned and walked away. "I'm sorry, Eric," she called over her shoulder, abruptly. "Have a safe trip."

He yanked at his hair in frustration and sunk down onto a nearby chair. The familiar sound of a fist pounding against a fiberglass table was all that needed to be said.

*******************************

"Eric."

He whipped around as the petite, raven haired girl appeared over the side of the fridge door. "Jesus, Jackie," he blew a weak chuckle out his nose as he readjusted his grip on the beer can he'd almost dropped in surprise. "I, um, I didn't hear you come in."

"Oh. Sorry. Your mom… she sent me in here to grab some extra napkins." She paused to roll her eyes. "Michael spilt soda all over himself." She flashed him a brief smile and moved towards the paper towel dispenser.

Eric took a beat, and then sent a 'what the hell?' look towards the ceiling. "Jackie, I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but you just missed a primo chance to make fun of me." When she just lifted a perfectly manicured eyebrow at him in response, he continued, with noticeably more flamboyant hand gestures, "You know… the whole 'I'm a jumpy girl and you're a bitchy… bitch' routine?" Still no response. "C'mon, that was like, our thing!"

"I'm sorry," Jackie retaliated coolly, ripping off a sequence of about ten paper towels, "I didn't realize we were still in high school."

"There," Eric grinned proudly, strolling across the kitchen to stand beside her, "I felt the resentment that time."

She finally cracked a smile. "Eric, you are a jumpy girl," she mumbled, reaching over to shove his shoulder none-too-gently before returning her attention to accordion- folding the towels she needed to deliver. "Although you're really not all that skinny anymore," she noted, glancing up at him. "What'd you do? Bench press that ginormous case you kept all your dorky dolls in?"

"I grew up," he answered, because it was the truth. She nodded, accepting his answer. He knew she understood; could tell just by looking at her eyes. They were… grayer.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "And you. I noticed that you've, um… you're a bit… you know, nicer," he finished with a cringe.

Jackie smiled; the first genuine one he'd seen from her today. "Aw, Eric," she teased him, straightening to her full height, "Are you trying to compliment me?"

He shrugged noncommittally, and she actually giggled before gathering the stack of towels into her arms. "You got a girlfriend, Eric?"

He smirked, and crossed his arms casually. "Oh, of course. You know me, always the player." She rolled her eyes when they made eye contact, and he shook his head once in amusement, easily acknowledging his fib. "You and Fez, though, huh?"

"Yeah," Jackie nodded, smiling. "We're really happy."

"Well that's great." Eric smiled too, because it was nice that at least someone around here was happy. Today was really kind of nice, he decided. His friends had done alright for themselves. Kelso was the family man, Fez and Jackie had found each other… and he was glad, if nothing else, that Donna was still writing. Suddenly he frowned, realizing that one person was conspicuously absent from the festivities. "Hey, how's Hyde doin'?"

Out of nowhere, Jackie bucked her knee against the cabinet roughly. Groaning, she leaned down to massage it, blinking up at him like a deer in the headlights. "Steven?" He nodded, confused. "Steven… Steven had to work tonight. At the mall. The mall is where he works. Tonight." She brought her hand up to her forehead, flustered, "I-I mean… other nights, too. Most nights, actually. He works a lot." She dropped her arms to her side in a huff, and seemed to decide to start over completely, "I don't see Steven much anymore," she retracted, nodding her head for emphasis. "I mean, I have Fez… why would I need Steven?"

Eric just stared at her. "I- okay," he finally decided on, holding his hands out in front of him as if that could stop her outbursts. "I was just, um, curious."

"Of course," Jackie nodded. "I was just, you know, letting you know. That Steven works at the mall. And that I don't need him. Er," she knitted her hands together across her forehead. Was that a trickle of sweat at her hairline? Eric got the sense that he was in way over his head. "That was a stupid thing to say. Of course I don't need him. But you know that." There was an awkward silence, where Eric became enthralled with his shoes and Jackie cringed. "So how's New York?" She tried a subject change.

"It's… fine," he glanced at her, his brow furrowed. Where had the calm, cool woman he'd been talking to five minutes ago gone? She nodded, but failed miserably in her attempt to appear interested. "Jackie," Eric finally sighed, going against every bad instinct he had, "Are you, like… okay?"

"I-" Her shoulders slumped. "Eric, you're leaving tomorrow, right?"

"Well, yeah –"

"Then, can you… can you keep a secret?" Her mismatched eyes had turned an intense shade, and they pleaded with his.

"I – yeah, I guess…"

"Okay, well," she paused to throw a glance over her shoulder at the screen door. When she was satisfied that no one had come looking for them, she dropped her voice to a whisper, "I slept with Steven last night." She cringed as soon as she said it, and chewed on her bottom lip apologetically as she waited for his reaction.

Eric just shook his head, not understanding. "Wait, but – Fez…"

"I know," she murmured, shaking her head, too. "I know. It was a horrible, stupid mistake, and I just… I feel so bad. It just… happened, I guess. It was just one of those things…" She trailed off lowly, hugging her arms around herself like she had the chills, even though it was 90 degrees outside.

"And you haven't… told anyone?" guessed, raising his eyebrow.

"No," she shook her head, a glossy sheen of tears forming in her eyes. "I… I can't tell Fez. It'll kill him," she whispered brokenly.

Eric blew a deep breath out and ran his hand through his hair absentmindedly. "God, I –I don't know what to tell you, Jackie," he murmured, glancing up at her and trying his hardest not to see her in a completely different light; one that was not exactly a positive reflection.

"You don't have to tell me anything," she assured him, touching his hand for a moment, but immediately retracting it. "I just… I guess I just had to tell someone. I was gonna burst."

He nodded like he understood, but he didn't. "Okay," he patted her on the arm, already starting to head towards the kitchen door, "As long as you've made peace with it, I guess…"

"Wait, Eric." Her words stopped him, and when he turned around, she was still standing there next to the counter, clutching the forgotten paper towels. "You're not going to tell anyone, are you?"

He paused, and stared down at his shoes as if they would produce his answer. "It was just a one-time thing?" He glanced up at her.

"Y-yes," she confirmed, dabbing at her eyes with the edge of her sleeve.

"Then… no," he settled, with his hand on the door. He cleared his throat. "There's no sense in ruining a perfectly good relationship over one dumb mistake, right?"

"Right," she echoed, and he nodded once and left. But he never glanced back, so he didn't catch her eyes dulling slowly back to the gray, or the way she ground her toe into the ground desperately, like she was just searching for a foothold.

************************************

The gentle summer breeze caressed Eric's face as he stepped gingerly back out onto the driveway, completely unnoticed by the mingling guests. Kelso was trying (badly) to dance to the crappy disco music blaring from the radio, while Brooke and Betsy did their best to disassociate themselves from him on the other side of the yard. Casey and Red were engaged in an aggressively loud discussion about the price of oil while Kitty bustled around behind them, pretending to be refilling ketchup bottles. Donna was… he craned his neck, to no avail. She was apparently nowhere to be found. And Fez was sitting at a table, sipping on a beer, laughing amiably at Kelso's wild, jerky antics. Eric couldn't help but hurt for the man, who had no idea he'd been betrayed, and by his best friend, no less. He sighed, and set his beer down on the desert table. He just couldn't imagine how that would feel. If Fez ever found out, surely it would –

"Shh."

Surprised, Eric glanced down. Natalia stood at the other end of the desert table, her chubby little arm poised as she prepared to reach for what appeared to be, judging from the powdered sugar coating her lips, her third or fourth lemon square.

"Shh," she whispered a second time, lifting a finger up to her lips for emphasis. "I'm only 'pposed to have one," she explained as she gingerly pinched her prize between her fingers, lifting it from the saran-wrap-covered plate and up to her mouth.

Eric found that he couldn't stop the chuckle from bubbling up from his throat. "Don't worry," he whispered back, just for fun. "Your secret is safe with me." She giggled when he reached for a pastry, too. "These are my favorite."

Natalia's eyes widened in surprise. "Mine too!" She bellowed, forgetting her secrecy in light of this new revelation. Pausing only to quickly swipe her hands across the front of her jean- short overalls, she bounded over to him. "I remember you," she announced, tipping her head back to stare up at him. "You were at Miss Kitty's house yesterday."

"I was," Eric agreed, polishing off his lemon square. He smiled at the child squinting up at him, but fidgeted for just a moment. "Hey, is your, um, mommy around here?"

Natalia shrugged her shoulders and squatted down on the ground to poke at a passing ladybug, already bored. "I dunno. She just told me to stay right here 'til she got back."

"Oh," Eric nodded, shifting his weight. Even though he knew he shouldn't… knew it was betraying Donna and the very clear answer she'd given him yesterday, he felt like this might be an opportunity to ask the little girl a couple of questions. Who did she call 'daddy'? How old was she, again? Was she… happy? He opened his mouth, but was interrupted by Natalia's spirited narrative from the ground.

"Take that, Darth Vader," she declared, poking the offending ladybug with a twig.

Eric grinned, and lowered himself to the ground gently. He drew his legs up so that he was sitting camper-style next to her, and she glanced over at him, her tangle of auburn bangs falling in front of her eyes.

"Do you wanna play?" She asked him genuinely, offering him a twig. Eric just shook his head, finding that his breath had somehow gotten lodged in his throat. Those eyes… God, he knew those eyes…

"I always play Star Wars," Natalia bubbled, happily turning her attention back to 'Darth Vader'. "It's my favoritest movie ever."

"Is it?" Eric cleared his throat, and leaned forward slightly, amused. "And who introduced you to that? 'Cause I know it wasn't your mom," Eric chuckled. "She's always hated Star Wars."

Natalia shook her head, "Well, my uncle Hyde buys me lots of presents. But I think my mom likes Star Wars, too. I think it's her favoritest movie, just like mine."

Eric laughed. "I don't think so, Natalia. Your mom and I," he hesitated, trying to determine the best way to explain he and Donna's on-again-off-again relationship to a four year old, "Your mom and I are old friends," he decided on finally, "And she's never been much of a fan. She left that pretty much up to me," he amended, chuckling.

But Natalia shook her head again, and kicked her feet out in front of her body impatiently. "No… I really think it's her favorite. Miss Kitty said your favorite movie always makes you cry."

Eric froze. "Star Wars makes your mom cry?"

"Y-yeah," Natalia stuttered, thrown by the suddenly serious expression Eric wore. "That's how come she never watches it with me. Cuz she can't even get through the very beginning without crying a little. I can tell, 'cause she goes like this," she proceeded to demonstrate a series of unladylike sniffles.

"Huh," was all Eric was able to mutter. And then, "So, Natalia." A beat. "Do you like ice cream?"

***********************************

"Alright, brother. You wanna stay. That's… that's interesting. But you're… you're sure about this?" Bill's voice, disbelieving and loud, as usual, boomed through the speaker of the Forman's living room phone.

Eric paused for a moment, trying to get comfortable on the old couch. "Yeah," he breathed slowly, nervous, but sure of his words, "Yeah, I think I am."

"You think you got a story, there?" His producer probed, and Eric bit his lip. Was there a sophomore novel hiding somewhere around Point Place, waiting to be written? A happy ending for Kenny Carmichael, and Dawn Pincerstein, and the rest of the citizens of Point Upon A Place? Truthfully, he wasn't yet sure. What he was sure of was that there was something more to Natalia Pinciotti than met the eye. There was something about her auburn hair… it was thin and fine, unlike Donna's, which was thick and rich. She had an unquenchable appetite for his mother's lemon bars. And her eyes. He saw those eyes every single day, staring back at him in the mirror. Her eyes.

"No, better," Eric cleared his throat. "I think I've got a daughter."


	5. V

Eric Forman prided himself on being such a sound sleeper.

Growing up, he'd slept through the endless supply of slummy guys Laurie paraded in through her window every Friday night. In Africa, he'd slept right through the suffocating heat and the mosquitoes that swarmed outside his tent. In fact, even the electrifying vibrations of New York City weren't enough to keep him up awake. But last night he couldn't sleep.

He'd lain there in his old twin-sized bed, tossing and turning for hours on end. No matter which position he'd adjusted to, sleep wouldn't come. He just couldn't turn his brain off for the night; couldn't shake the sneaking suspicion that maybe, just maybe, he had a child. A pretty little girl, with green eyes and mismatched converse sneakers, to be exact.

Fleetingly, Eric found himself wondering what her favorite color was. Did she prefer orange jello, or red? How about her first word; what had that been? He wondered if she was sad that she didn't have a daddy, and he swallowed hard. God. If he did turn out to be the father, and he'd missed out on these first four years of her life… he grimaced. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to forgive himself for that one. Still, the other day Donna had informed him that he had nothing to do with Natalia, and somehow, that thought broke his heart even more.

So he was, to say the least, a bit surprised the next morning when Donna came barreling through the basement door to talk to him.

He'd been sitting in front of the TV vaguely watching some game, he wasn't even sure which sport it was, to be truthful, and reveling in his mother's decorating abilities. Sometime a couple of years ago, she'd apparently taken on the task of revamping the crowded space he had once referred to as his 'bat cave'. The floor was laminate now, a white marble color, and brightly colored circle rugs were dispersed around the room along with things like miniature painter's easels, hippity-hops, and toy chests. A bulletin board hung where the washer and drier used to sit, displaying pictures of several children and the proud declaration 'Kitty's Little Angels'. He'd thought it funny, for about half a second, that after whipping into the room, Donna had attempted to hang her jacket on the child-sized coat rack before rolling her eyes and throwing it across the back of the couch with a huff.

"We need to talk," she announced, seating herself primly on the rocking chair to his left.

"Greetings are so out-dated these days, don't you think?" He tried to be funny, but she didn't allow for so much as a small courtesy smile.

"Look," Donna folded her hands cordially, "I heard that you're… staying. Or something. And that's whatever. You can do whatever you want." She narrowed her eyebrows in a way that let him know she meant business, "Except invite my daughter out for ice cream, Eric."

"Oh." He shrugged his shoulders, frowning. "I'm sorry. The offer was only if she got your permission. I just," he hesitated, "I just want to get to know her a little."

"Why?" Donna threw her hands up in exasperation.

"She has my eyes, Donna." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Eric found that as much as he knew they would open a whole new, controversial can of worms, he didn't regret them in the slightest. He wanted to know.

Donna just released a tired sigh and gently lifted one hand to smooth across her forehead wearily, "No. She doesn't."

"They're green," he countered, going on the defensive.

"And that means what?" Donna finally exploded, crossing her arms across her chest defiantly. Her eyebrow arched so high it disappeared into her hairline. "That she's your daughter?"

Without even realizing it, Eric sucked in a deep breath. "Look, Donna," his voice had lowered considerably, taking on an intense tone that she'd never heard out of his mouth before, "I know I'm not as smart as you are, but I can count to nine." She declined to answer him, choosing instead to draw her mouth together, as if she was silently begging herself not to say something. Finding himself suddenly angry, Eric stood up. "What's the deal with Natalia's father, Donna?"

She lifted her head to meet his eyes, and the burning intensity behind them startled him. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"

Eric set his jaw, and tilted his head up imperceptibly.

Now Donna stood, too, casually whipping her purse over her arm, her stare never faltering from his. "Natalia's father is a man named Pete Peterson," she began, strikingly calm. "He's a forty-year-old doctor from Boston. I hooked up with him at a party two weeks after you left." She paused. "Happy?"

Eric swallowed hard as she maneuvered around him to grab her coat from the back of the couch. She started heading towards the door to leave, but paused and turned around. "You want more details?" She asked him, a predatory gleam in her eyes, "Here's one," She took a step closer to him, and then another one, until they were standing so close their bodies were brushing. "I did it because I knew in my heart that you were never coming home to me."

******************************************

The mall looked different. Clearly, it had been remodeled in the last several years, because Eric didn't recognize any of his surroundings. Where was that malt stand he'd loved as a child? It had always been right across from the food court, hadn't it? And the weird second-hand store he used to occasionally steal a cool looking ring or postcard from? It had apparently been replaced by a women's shoe store.

Eric sighed and made his way towards the directory. It was funny how much things changed; funny how quickly one became an outsider in his own town. There was a time when he'd known the precise location and name of each and every store in the mall, who owned them, and how long they'd been there. Now he was surrounded by unfamiliar shops and kiosks selling brightly colored sunglasses. He sighed again, and ran his finger along the glass of the directory, tracing his way down to 'Accessories'. What had the name of Hyde's cassette store been, again? Jackie had mentioned it once. Holes, was it? No… but it was definitely 'hole' something…

Eric's train of thought was interrupted when a group of rowdy teenage boys blew past him. He straightened as the scent of smoke engulfed him, and his shoulder was jostled as a dark skinned straggler knocked into him. Feeling a bit out of his element, Eric followed the group with his eyes. He didn't know why he was glaring; they weren't turning around. They'd entered the dark shop directly in front of him… the one with the dark red walls, dim lights, and slightly obnoxious music. In an effort to convince himself he hadn't, in fact, become his father, Eric smiled wistfully. It looked like the kind of shop he and his friends would have spent hours at when they were teens. The accidentally-on-purpose jagged edges of the front entrance, the smoky atmosphere… it oozed teenage rebellion. He was just about to turn back to the directory when he caught the title… Hole In The Wall: Cassettes and More. But of course.

He waited until the unruly kids had trooped back out before entering the store cautiously moments later. The impression he'd gotten from the outside held true: there were rows upon rows of cassette racks, aisles of cool miscellaneous memorabilia like guitar picks and amplifiers, and signed posters decorated nearly every square inch of free wall. Eric couldn't resist whistling under his breath, searching the aisles and behind the counter for Hyde. There weren't any other customers in the store; the mall closed in five minutes.

"Can I help you find something?" The voice came from the back of the store, and Eric whipped around to see Hyde emerging from the back room, carrying a stack of crates so high it obstructed his face. "I've got to unload these, and we close in a few minutes, but if there's something in particular you're looking for, I could ring you up quick."

Eric grinned despite himself, and strolled a few paces towards the counter. "Yeah," he drawled, crossing his arms confidently, "How 'bout some Zeppelin?"

The crates slammed down so hard Eric was amazed Hyde didn't crush his fingers. With a flash of intensity, fierce blue eyes met startled green ones. Hyde stared at him for a long moment, and Eric's smile eager wavered. "We're closed," Hyde finally muttered, his voice even, and with a roll of his neck, he turned his back to his former best friend and started cutting open the top of a crate.

"Hey," Eric's voice rang out in the quiet shop, causing Hyde to tighten his shoulders but not turn around, "Come on." He took another step closer to his old friend, his shoes squeaking on the cheap laminate floor. "You're not even gonna let me explain?"

The only sound in the room was the soft rip of the tape as Hyde pierced his scissors through the top of a second crate. He began unloading it without a word.

"I-I didn't mean for any of it to happen, you know," Eric started softly, lifting himself up to sit on the counter next to Hyde, who continued to look for all the world as if he didn't notice that there was anyone else in the room with him. "I never intended to stay away for this long. And, man, you don't know how many times I picked up the phone to call you… or, you know…" he trailed off uncertainly, and, detecting a touchy subject, he quickly added, "But, hey, this place looks great. Really. Seems like a cool job. I was watching those teenagers in here earlier…"

Hyde let out a soft grunt of exertion as he lifted another crate and dropped it on the ground. He turned around slowly, and lifted an eyebrow when he met Eric's eyes. "Sure," he nodded, "Yeah. Woulda made a great scene for your book." Abruptly, Hyde shouldered around Eric with a bit more force than strictly necessary, and made his way back towards the counter. Eric barely registered a soft, "Fuck you," and dropped his hands into his lap, defeated.

"So that's…" Eric patted his thighs, and hopped off the counter, rounding on Hyde. "That's it? You're like mad at me because I wrote a book? Because I found success?"

"No, no," Hyde corrected methodically, still refusing to look his companion in the eye, "I'm mad at you because you turned your back on your friends, Forman. On your life." Hyde avoided eye contacts as he stalked over to a nearby table, a stack of cassettes in his arms. With an impatient sigh, he quickly busied himself with setting up a display, his eyes narrowed.

Eric just gave a hollow chuckle, and crossed his arms over his chest. Maybe this was just the final straw on his bad day, or maybe it was just the product of twelve-plus years of build-up, but something inside of him finally snapped. "Well you know what I think?" Eric taunted him, moving closer to his friend now, his tone almost menacing. "I think you're pissed at me because I got out of this shitty little town, and you didn't." Eric moved closer still, his hands smugly in his pockets. "I always thought that out of all of us, you would be the one to get out and do something with your life. I always thought you were gonna be somebody." He paused and let his words sink in, before adding, quietly but triumphantly, "Guess I was wrong."

Hyde slammed the cassette he was holding onto the floor. The plastic shattered, and he gripped the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned white, but he refused to turn around and face Eric. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he snarled.

"It means," Eric was standing directly behind him now, and his voice was livid in Hyde's ear, "That you got stuck. I mean… look at you. You're twenty-four years old and you're working at the mall and screwing your best friend's fiancé behind his back."

At Eric's words, Hyde whirled around abruptly. The two men were standing nose to nose, glaring at each other furiously, each seemingly daring the other to utter one more word. Eric took the bait. "What the fuck happened to you, man?"

Hyde's fist connected with Eric's jaw in the next second, and the impact sent the scrawnier man tumbling to the floor. Hyde stood above him, massaging his knuckles. He seemed to give his victim a moment to recover before nudging him in the side with his boot. "I could ask you the same question," he stated simply, before he turned around and walked into his office without looking back.

********************************************

"Put this on your jaw."

Red tossed a cool blue ice pack across the kitchen, and Eric caught it between the tips of his fingers. His skin burned, protesting against the harsh contrast, but he obediently lifted the cube to rest below his temple.

"How's it feel?"

Red had always been of few words, and for the first time in his life, Eric was thankful for that. He gently shifted the ice pack and slowly rotated his stiff jaw. He was met with a sharp zing, and he flinched. "Aches."

His father just stared at him. He'd popped open a beer and taken a seat across from Eric at the kitchen table. He slowly traced the rim with his index finger, his gaze even. "I meant," Red paused for emphasis, " how does it feel to be punched in the face by your best friend?" His voice and expression were unflinchingly passive, making it impossible to measure his level of contempt.

Eric sighed. "Even worse," he admitted. Although a nagging part of him still thought his analysis of Hyde's behavior had been correct, he felt bad about practically shoving his success in his friend's face. He'd been out of line, and he knew it. Still, something had just… come over him at the record shop; something he couldn't quite put his finger on. All he'd known was that he'd been back to town for less than three days, and he already felt like he was back in high school. The girl next door was being wooed by the town bad boy, his mother was treating him much better than he deserved and his father was detached, and his best friend was so much cooler than him. Everything was just the same as when he'd left it, and it wasn't supposed to be like that. It was supposed to be better this time around. But it wasn't. "I just…" Eric sighed. "I can't say I expected everyone to be happy I'm home… but I never expected them all to, like... whatever," he trailed off, conscious of his father's quiet but condemning gaze.

Red was quiet for a long moment before letting out joyless chuckle. "Welcome to the blowback, son."

Eric's eyes snapped up. "The what?"

"The blowback." Red shrugged, and took a sip of his beer. "You write a book about your hometown that features everybody in a not so peachy light, and you're gonna have more than a few pissed off people on your hands." He drummed his fingers on the table for a second, his demeanor still surprisingly calm. "Then you do one better and stay away for five years. Truth is, we're all wondering just what exactly you're doing back, and how many years you're gonna be gone next time." He finished his sentence with an articulate belch.

Eric nodded slowly, defeated. "I guess I deserve that."

"I think the reason you're meeting so much resistance," Red swiveled in his chair, as if preparing to stand up, "is because we can't figure out why you left in the first place."

"I-" Eric's voice caught in his throat, and he studied his hands rather than meet his father's eyes, "I guess I really don't know, either."

Red nodded once, and lifted himself to his feet, already headed to the fridge for another beer. He paused for a moment next to the counter, thinking. "Well. Why'd you come back?"

Eric shook his head again, but his eyes automatically flickered to the side of the Pinciotti's old house. A sliver of their driveway was visible from the sliding glass door. Red stared at him for a moment. "Maybe there's your answer."

*******************************************

"You shouldn't have hit him, Steven." Jackie's voice rang through the mostly empty studio apartment, reaching the kitchen nook from her perch on the end of his bed. Hyde lifted his arm in a half-hearted signal that he'd heard her, but continued to poke at the charred mess on his stove that had at one point been a frozen pot-roast dropped off by Mrs. Forman.

Apparently giving up hope, Hyde sighed and shoveled the crispy remains into the garbage can before reaching for the phone. "Do you want Chinese take-out, or pizza?" he hollered over his shoulder, and Jackie slid off the bed and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, her silky robe billowing behind her.

"Chinese," she answered primly, "And you didn't answer me."

He sighed and set the phone back on its cradle. "That's because I don't know what you want me to say, Jackie," Hyde countered, turning around in her arms and easing himself up so that he was seated on the kitchen counter with her standing between his knees. "The guy had it comin'."

But Jackie shook her head. "That guy is your best friend," she insisted stubbornly, tugging on the hem of his white undershirt.

"Was my best friend," Hyde corrected, turning his eyes down.

Jackie grasped his knees and swayed in place, her tone softened and her eyes gentle. "Are you still upset about the book?"

"Nah. I never even read it," he grinned, and Jackie laughed. "It's the movie." He paused, thinking. "My character… what was his name? Seek?" Hyde rolled his eyes. It might have been a new decade, but Forman was still just as big of a dork as he was when they were seven. "You know that scene… the one where the kids burned that old abandoned shed down, and then Seek ran away?" Jackie nodded, so he continued, scoffing. "I mean, c'mon. That never happened. Yeah, I burned the shed… but I didn't run. I stayed. I dealt with the consequences of my actions. Unlike some people."

Her eyes were wide as she watched him, and finally she relented. "So you're angry because he rewrote history?" But Hyde just shook his head.

"It's not even that," he cracked his knuckles and looked down at the raven-haired beauty standing in front of him. "He just… he thinks he gets to blow into town and save the day. He fucking…" Hyde trailed off angrily. "Maybe we don't need saving," he finally decided on, and punctuated his statement by gently swinging down from the counter.

Jackie watched him as he paced the tiny kitchen. "Maybe you don't, Steven," she added quietly a few moments later, "But the rest of us are kind of a mess. Did you know he thinks he's Natalia's father?"

His pacing stopped abruptly, and he slowly turned around to face Jackie again. He nodded slowly, his lips thin and pulled tight against his mouth. "I always kind of thought so, too," he admitted quietly.

"And that's why you come around so often," Jackie swallowed, finally understanding. "I know you take your godfather duties pretty seriously, Steven," a smile tugged on the corner of her lips, remembering an instance in which Hyde had warn a matching Mickey Mouse t-shirt to keep a younger Natalia from bawling. "Donna says that you still take her out for ice cream every Sunday night… down by the pond to feed the ducks, even, sometimes. You're gonna give the rest of us a bad name," she teased him, and he smiled for the briefest of seconds. "How can I compete with someone who takes her to see Star Wars?"

He just shrugged. "It's really no big deal," he defended himself. His voice dropped as he added, softly, "The kid doesn't have a father, that's all."

"Well I think it's sweet," Jackie persisted, reaching around to fist her hands in the front of his white t-shirt so that she could pull him to her in a kiss. "But I might have to take a rain check on that Chinese food. I just noticed the time; Fez will be home soon."

And that's how Hyde came to be sitting in his recliner in the middle of his apartment, a fork-full of moo shoo pork in one hand and a bottle of cheap beer in the other, wondering how come at the end of the day, he always ended up right here, feeling just like this: empty.

******************************************

Donna let out a deep sigh as she dropped into bed, completely spent. Putting a four year old with a sugar high to bed for the night will do that to you, she chuckled, as she glanced at the clock. When had 8:30 pm become late? Although her body was clearly exhausted, her mind was still reeling, so she reached for her bedside table, ready to read a few quick pages of her book until she felt drowsy enough to sleep.

The novel that she wanted wasn't in its normal place, so curiously, she climbed out of bed and padded over to the bookshelf in search of it. Her tired eyes couldn't seem to locate the dull red cover of To Kill A Mockingbird, but they did fall across the bright blue binding of another worn read; one she hadn't touched in nearly a month, now. The frantic slope of the title called to her, and she lifted Small Pond from its place, turning it over in her palm.

There he was, handsome and grinning in the black and white thumbnail near the bottom of the back cover. And even though she knew she shouldn't, knew this was probably the absolute last thing she needed to do right now, she flipped back the cover. She knew it was crazy, but sometimes when she read things he'd written, she felt close to him; like he was sitting right next to her, whispering the words into her ear. Some days that was a good thing, like when she read the line on page 21, where Derrick admitted that he'd never love anyone quite like he'd loved Dawn. But most of the time it was a bad thing.

Taking in a deep breath, Donna closed her eyes and flipped to a random page. It was the end of the first chapter, and almost immediately her eyes started swimming, because she knew what was coming.

"And as Derrick walked away," she recited, slamming the book shut and letting it fall to the floor with a thud, "he wished that he could completely erase those last four years from his memory."

The funny thing was, those had been the best four years of her life.

**************************************

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who is reading, leaving kudos, and comments. They make my day! FYI to anyone who is caught up and wants more chapters immediately, I am currently posting my newest chapters over at FFN (same username). Chapter 10 is set to go up tomorrow! They'll all be transferred over here eventually, but that's where I've been updating first.


	6. VI

The shadowy hallway of Willow Oaks Apartment Building #3 was dead silent as Eric climbed the final flight of stairs and the looming doorway of room 5B came into view. He found himself dragging his feet as he moved closer to the heavy wooden door. He wasn't sure he was ready to deal with the demons of his past that lay just behind the threshold.

When Eric had come down for dinner that evening, Red had thrown one sullen look at him and pointed a gnarled finger towards the sliding kitchen door. "Go," he'd said. "Make things right with your best friend before it's too late."

So he'd gone. And the whole while over, he'd thought it was a good idea. As girly as it sounded, he missed his best friend. There was just something about an old friend that's rejuvenating. Spending time with someone who knows everything about you – everything – and still chooses to be in your company… it was friendships like these which he'd been missing out on since he left. Sure, he had friends, but they weren't people to just hang out and remember all the good times with so much as they were people to party with. People to forget with.

Making his decision, Eric reached his knuckles out and rapped three times before he could chicken out. Fleetingly, he glanced around the barren hallway. There was no place to hide if Hyde decided not to forgive the punk wannabe-writer who'd publically trashed him across the big screen and then had the nerve to rub said trashing in his face. Eric swallowed hard as the door swung open.

"Oh. Hey."

Eric wasn't sure what he'd been expecting – a door slammed in his face, perhaps? – but it wasn't a calm greeting. Hyde stood before him in a white tank and crumpled, day-old jeans. He had a dab of shaving cream on his face, and he reached up to swipe it off when Eric stared.

"Can I – can we talk?"

Hyde nodded slowly, and eased the door open a little wider so that Eric could slide inside. "Red gave you my address, huh?"

"Yeah," Eric nodded, feeling out of place in the tiny apartment. Although it was lacking furniture other than a simple couch and armchair, it felt… warm, unlike his apartment back in New York. There were pictures on the mantle – a recent one of Donna, Kelso, and Hyde, and another of the whole gang when they were teenagers. Eric swallowed when he noticed the pictures of Natalia. There was one that must've been her newborn hospital picture, a tuft of red hair the only indicator of the little girl she was to become. Another featured she and Hyde on a teeter totter at the old primary school. Still another depicted a beaming Natalia, popsicle smeared across her face as she jumped through a sprinkler.

"She's a cute kid, isn't she?" Hyde offered, coming up behind Eric and startling him.

He turned around and cracked a small smile. "Yeah. She is."

"She likes Star Wars, you know," Hyde gave him the smallest of head nods, and Eric smiled, happy his friend hadn't tried to beat the crap out of him yet, but a little confused. He was reminded of their elementary or junior high days; they would get into a fight about something stupid, and the next day Hyde would just traipse right into the basement like nothing had happened, and their disagreement would be completely cooled. Maybe it's really just that simple between old friends. Maybe-

"I'm still pissed at you, you know." Maybe not.

Hyde had turned around and walked away from the mantle, towards the kitchen nook. His back was towards Eric, but his tone was calm, much different than yesterday.

"Yeah, I figured." It was all Eric could think to offer, but he shoved his hands in his pockets apologetically and made his way over to his oldest friend.

Hyde didn't say anything when he reached him, just stared. That was Hyde – unassuming, undemanding. He wasn't going to make him apologize, and didn't expect him to. He was just waiting.

"I'm sorry," Eric broke two seconds later, throwing his hands up in complete surrender. "I'm really sorry. I was just… I was out of line to say that stuff, and I take it all back, and-"

"Forman," Hyde cut him off, shaking his head. "It's okay."

"Really?"

"Sure," Hyde nodded, eyeing the smaller man warily, as if afraid he'd try to go in for a hug. "Some of what you said, man… it was true." Eric shook his head, but Hyde cut him off again. "And, I'd apologize for that," he gestured to Eric's puffy, red jaw, "But, you know…"

Eric waved off his apology. "You were probably right to hit me."

"Oh I was absolutely right to hit you," Hyde raised his eyebrows, and Eric shrunk back automatically.

There were a few seconds of strained silence. Eric wished he could say it was awkward for both of them, but as usual, Hyde seemed unfazed and simply glared at his old friend.

"Well, look," Eric stammered, forcing himself to straighten, "what can I do to make things right between us?"

At that, Hyde nodded briskly. "Simple," he shrugged. "Admit that you think you're better than me, better than this," he gestured around his apartment with a wave of his finger, "because you're some hot-shot writer boy now."

"No." Eric shook his head sincerely, waving away his friend's accusations. "That's not true, man-"

"Admit it," Hyde cut him off sourly. "Admit it, or I'll never respect you again."

Eric's shoulders slumped. He stared down at the carpet, unable to look his friend in the eye. "Okay," his voice was barely louder than a whisper. "I-sometimes, I-I guess that's true," he cringed at his own admission, and finally glanced up at Hyde remorsefully.

Hyde stared at him for a long, long moment. Finally, he nodded. "Alright, man. We're cool."

"Really?" Eric's smile lit up his face. Finally, something had gone right since he'd gotten here.

"Yeah," Hyde shrugged noncommittally. "An ass who can admit he's an ass is better than one who can't."

Eric jerked his head in a half-nod, trying to agree. That was about as complimentary as Hyde got. And as usual, he was spot-on correct.

"But hey, listen," Hyde continued, moving across the room to prod at his dumpy TV, which had started steaming out the sides. Eric looked closer and recognized it as the one his parents used to keep in the basement. Hyde must have kept it after all this time for sentimental value. "How'd you find out about me and Jackie? Kinda supposed to be a secret."

"Oh. Right." Eric shoved his hands in his pockets, finally starting to relax a little. "She told me."

"Jackie told you," Hyde repeated, staring back in disbelief.

"Yeah, it was weird," Eric agreed. "I think it was because she thought I was leaving, and figured I'd be safe to tell. Guess she's feeling guilty." He gave Hyde a pointed look.

Eric still couldn't believe it was in Hyde's character to do this to such a good friend. He'd snagged Jackie that summer Kelso and Donna were in California, but that had been different. Jackie had been technically single, then. And it was pretty easy to justify "betraying" Kelso – although he'd pined after Jackie for weeks after he found them together, at his core he was a womanizer and he moved on without too much suffering. But Fez… Fez was a good guy. And he and Hyde had always been very close. Something about this rubbed Eric the wrong way.

Meanwhile, Hyde scoffed. "Jackie doesn't do 'guilt', man." He threw aside the antennae he had been adjusting and stepped away from the TV, apparently admitting defeat. "And neither do I," he added, giving Eric a look that told him he'd be wise to drop this line of conversation if he wanted to keep his newly reclaimed friend.

"Hey, I like your place." Eric changed the topic hastily as Hyde crossed to the kitchen counter, leafing through a pile of mail. "It's nice."

"No, it's a shithole," Hyde responded without looking up.

"Okay," Eric squeaked, eager to agree with anything Hyde said.

Hyde looked up at him and seemed to feel a twinge of sympathy for his old friend. "Look," he rubbed a hand over his freshly shaved chin. "Kelso and Fez and I… we're gonna go grab a beer. There's this new place on Fifth that's all right. You, ah… you wanna come?"

"I – yeah. Yeah, totally. That sounds great," Eric answered honestly, ecstatic to be back 'in' with the guys, and Hyde nodded.

"I'm gonna go put on a shirt. Make yourself at home," he joked, laughing through his nose as he gestured to the worn down place. Eric still thought it was nice. It was a little reminiscent of his trailer from the old days, but it was clean. Sure the furniture was worn, but there were rock and roll posters covering almost every square inch of wall, and strangely even some feminine touches, like drapes and matching dishtowels.

Hyde had just exited to the bathroom when the front door of the apartment opened tentatively.

"Jackie?"

"Oh, my god." The small brunette standing in the doorway clutched a hand to her chest in surprise. Her other arm was full with an overflowing grocery bag. "Eric. What are you doing here?"

Side-stepping her question completely, Eric glared at her and crossed his arms. He nodded to the grocery bag. "What, are you Hyde's personal shopper now, too?"

She rolled her eyes and invited herself all the way inside, letting the heavy door shut behind her. "No," her tone was snotty, and she set the bag on the counter and began pulling things from it. She balanced a pair of apples and three pears in her hands, and deposited them in an empty wooden bowl on the opposite counter before reaching back into the bag and pulling out a half gallon of milk. "I just… bring things over sometimes. Steven hates shopping of any kind and if I didn't bring him groceries he'd never eat anything but that junk at the mall."

She continued unloading a loaf of bread, some cheese, and a can of soup while Eric stared at her.

"Jackie." Eric uncrossed his arms. His voice was no longer sharp. He spoke softly, with the air of a revelation. "You're… you and Hyde. It's more than a one night stand, isn't it?"

Jackie shrugged and placed the milk in the fridge. "No."

"But. You're bringing him groceries." Eric spoke slowly, clearly confused.

Jackie sighed and dropped her shoulders. "Okay, fine. Maybe it is. But it's none of your business anymore, okay? In fact, I just want you to forget the conversation we had."

Eric furrowed his brow. "How do you expect me to do that?"

"You know, I don't care." Jackie glared up at him, finally showing some emotion. Unfortunately, that emotion was anger. And it was directed at him. Eric gulped. "I only told you what I did because you were supposed to be on a plane to New York 36 hours later. I didn't tell you so you would get involved." She picked up a carrot and jabbed it at him with each word she spoke. "So Butt. Out. Forman."

"Fine." He raised both arms in surrender, and she dropped her weapon of choice. He was silent for a few moments, watching her put away the last of the groceries and wipe up the residue left on the counter with a washcloth like she lived there. "I just don't understand how you could do this to Fez."

Jackie growled low in her throat. "You don't have to understand it." Her tone was warning.

"But you guys – I mean, you seem… happy."

Jackie grumbled and dropped her elbows on the now-clean surface, leaning onto them to level with Eric. "We are," she sighed, finally giving in to his inquisitions.

"Then how come you – what?" Eric seemed surprised. "You are happy with Fez?"

"Of course." Jackie made a weak gesture with her hands. "Fez is wonderful."

Eric shook his head. "Okay, now I'm confused."

Jackie sighed again, and threaded her hands together. She stared at them for a long time before looking up at Eric again. "Okay. I'm going to tell you something. But once I do, you have to shut up and stop asking these questions." Eric nodded. "And you have to promise… Eric promise me that you'll still hold up your end of the deal. Don't tell anyone, okay?"

He sucked in a hard breath. It wasn't a promise he could make lightly – Fez was one of his best friends. But Eric was already in deep enough that he might as well know the rest. Maybe the knowledge would be valuable, and he could do something to fix all of his friends. Or burn the hell out of Jackie at a later date. Slowly, he nodded. "Okay. Yeah. I promise."

"Fine." Jackie sucked her cheeks in and held them for a second. "See the thing is… I know that Fez is the right guy. He's – he's stable, and doting, and charming. We listen to the same kind of music. We want the same things. And," she sucked in a breath, "and he loves me. He'll give me anything I want. I know that." Jackie paused. "But Steven is… there's just something about Steven that has taken ahold of my heart and won't let go. I know he doesn't love me the way I love him, but I can't help taking whatever I can get."

She looked up at him, now, and Eric was shocked to see unshed tears filling her eyes. But seconds later, her sassy tone returned.

"So you can think I'm a whore if you want, or a bad girlfriend, and you know what? It's probably true. I know that, okay?" She wiped at her eyes forcefully, then returned her hands to fumble with the washcloth that still lay between them. "But this… Eric, this is the only way I can be with him. I need him, and he needs my company. So this is just how I have to live."

Eric shook his head. "But… if you feel that way, why can't you just break up with Fez and date Hyde? Why complicate things?"

Jackie laughed joylessly. "You think I haven't tried that?" She sighed. "Steven, he… he doesn't want a relationship. He never has. What we have works because there's no pressure." She shrugged matter-of-factly. "I'll marry Fez. We both know that. What Steven and I have is just companionship, with sex thrown in." Eric winced, but she continued as if he hadn't. "I need someone to love – to really love – and Steven needs someone to…" she gestured the the now empty bag on the counter, glumly. "To bring him groceries."

"Wow. So there are really no emotions involved?"

"Not for him."

That surprised Eric. He knew Hyde well – had lived with him for years – and the guy wasn't helpless. His upbringing with the ever-absent Edna had forced him to grow up a lot earlier than any of the rest of the gang, so cooking and basic upkeep was something he'd been versed in since 17. It was pretty unlikely that he was keeping Jackie around to bring him his groceries. He opened his mouth to say that, when Hyde ambled in from the bathroom, a clean Rolling Stones t-shirt now on.

"Jackie."

She whipped around to face him. "Steven. Um, I brought some food over."

He nodded, and crossed to stand next to Eric. "Cool." There was a beat of painfully awkward silence, in Eric's opinion, before Hyde cleared his throat. "You, ah, wanna come out with us?"

She tightened her lips. "Fez is going."

He shrugged, as if to say 'So what?' but Jackie shook her head.

"No. I'll – I'm gonna go. I think I'll visit Donna."

Eric's ears perked up at the mention, but Jackie was shrugged into her coat and out the door before he could say a word.

Hyde clapped him on the shoulder, and Eric's breath whooshed out of him. "Let's go drink."

*********************************

"That's our table, over there." Hyde grasped Eric's shoulders and pointed him in the direction of a waving Fez and Kelso. "I'll get us a couple pitchers."

The bar was nice, Eric thought as he made his way over to his friends. It was a new building, in the place of that old warehouse on fifth that everyone had always said something ought to be done about. The decorum was nice. Maybe a little too 'up woods' for Eric's taste, but he supposed they were in Wisconsin. Hyde looked pretty familiar with the bartender and Kelso and Fez were finishing up a game of darts with a guy in a trucker hat. Eric guessed they came here a lot.

"Hey man, nice to see you." Eric and Kelso shared a high-five/handshake as he sat himself at the high-top table across from him.

"No kidding!" Kelso was grinning spastically.

"Yeah, I had a little change of plans," Eric offered. "Gonna be sticking around a little while longer."

"Excellent news, my friend." Fez dropped into another chair, and patted Eric on the back amicably. "Our trio is back to a qua –" he fumbled. "A qua-trio?"

"Fez, the word is 'quadrant'." Kelso rolled his eyes and then shot a meaningful look to Eric. "How many years in this country and he still can't speak right."

Eric just laughed. It was good to be back.

Hyde returned with a couple of pitchers, and soon the night was in full swing. The guys had asked several questions about life in the Big Apple – Was he living like a hot-shot? Pulling all the tail he wanted? – but Eric quickly steered conversation away from himself. Once you got passed the basics, he really didn't have much to tell. At least, not the kinds of things they were expecting.

Instead, he genuinely wanted to know about Kelso's family. Brooke had finally agreed to marry him, and now she was pregnant again. They were having a new house built in that new development off the highway. Kelso was still working as a cop, and surprisingly, he'd proven to be decent at it. He'd really landed on his feet – a shock to everyone who went to high school with him.

Fez, on the other hand, regaled them with stories about Jackie, and their life together. They rented a house in the same neighborhood as Eric's parents. Eric's eyes drifted to Hyde when Fez started to describe their upcoming date night. Apparently Fez and Jackie had a tradition of picking out each other's outfits, and the red dress he'd bought for her today sounded like it was barely decent for public. Hyde listened as intently as the others, though, and Eric couldn't detect any hints of tension in his jaw or the hand that clasped his beer glass. Maybe Jackie hadn't been bluffing; the arrangement they had really worked.

As the group got into their third pitcher of beer, though, Eric's tongue loosened up. And he wanted the low-down on Donna.

"Pete Peterson," Eric threw out, watching carefully for the group's reactions. "What kind of a name is Pete Peterson? That's like… that's like a name you make up when you can't think of anything else. Right?" He looked to his friends for confirmation, but Fez shook his head slowly.

"I don't know," he spoke slowly. "Donna says he's the father of Natalia. They had a one night stand and then he left town."

"Yeah," Eric shook his head. "But I don't believe that."

"I do," Kelso piped up. He set his glass down roughly, sloshing some of the amber liquid onto his hand. He lapped it up greedily before continuing. "Donna was doing any guy with a pulse that fall. Remember?"

"What?" Despite himself, Eric's voice cracked. He cleared his throat and blinked away the hurt in his eyes, while Hyde leaned over and frogged Kelso.

"Yeah, well. She still wouldn't touch you. So what does that say?"

"Ow, Hyde. Damn." Kelso clutched his arm. "All's I'm sayin' is that she got real whorey after Eric left. This Pete guy…" Kelso shrugged. "I'd believe it."

"Donna ain't a whore," Hyde corrected gruffly. He took a big sip of his beer and squeezed his glass tightly, like he was tempted to punch Kelso again. Eric wished he would.

"Well not anymore. Casey's got her tied down."

"Yeah. Since when?" Eric shook his head, reeling from all the new information that had been introduced.

"Oh, we've been together for close to a year, now." A hard grip clamped Eric's shoulder, and he looked up to find Casey Kelso leering over him. "You still enjoying the place, fellas?" He smiled at Kelso. Even Hyde gave him a nod.

Eric's head dropped, though. "You – you own the bar, too?"

Casey laughed. "No. I built it, though."

"Yeah. Casey's the man now, Eric," Kelso offered from across the table. "He owns half the town. Built a couple bars. And the new supermarket coming in. He hooked me and Brooke up with our new place, too." Of course. Eric glanced at him again. He was still wearing that stupid 'Kelso Konstruction' jacket – and a sizeable smirk.

"Yep." Casey rested his hands on the edges of their table and leaned in, his focus on Eric. "I'm not famous, but I am rich as hell."

"Well how nice for you," Eric muttered under his breath.

"Looks like your tank's runnin' a little low," Casey nodded to their near-empty pitcher. "How about another round on me?"

The guys cheered, and Casey handed Kelso and Fez a wad of bills. They quickly retreated to the ordering counter. Ignoring Hyde, a few feet away, Casey leaned in close to Eric – and his 'nice guy' persona was long gone.

"I heard you're sticking around, Foreplay," he snarled. Eric gulped. He felt like he was 10, all over again, and being robbed of his lunch money. "It's a free country, so do what you want. But just know, this is my town now. And Pinciotti is my girl. I don't want you sniffing around. Got it?"

"I'm not 'sniffing' – " Eric began, but Casey cut him off quickly. His face was even closer to his now, and he could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath.

"Good. That's what I like to hear. Cuz we got no use for you. Got it? Donna, me, and Natalia… we're happy. They get all they need from me."

At the mention of Natalia, Eric leveled his chin and looked Casey in the eye. Mustering all of his courage, Eric swallowed hard. "I'm not so sure about that."

But Casey didn't look threatened. Instead, his face loosened up and he began to chuckle, like the very idea of Eric taking a stand was hilarious to him. "Look, I've heard all about your and Donna's pathetic little dead romance. She doesn't miss you, man. She traded up. So do the right thing, and stay out of it." He straightened up, and clapped Eric on the shoulder like he was about to leave. "Oh, and one more thing. Natalia is none of your concern. Her father is a close personal friend of mine." He leaned in one last time, and leered. "So that definitely rules out you."

Kelso and Fez were back, pitcher in tow, so Casey straightened and ruffled Eric's hair, like he'd done when they were kids. "Nice chat, Foreplay."

"Foreplay," Kelso laughed. "Man, I forgot about that."

Casey smiled and shrugged. "Well, let's bring it back. Nice to see you guys. I better get home, or the lady will think I've got a girlfriend." He winked, slapped the bartender a high-five as he exited, and was gone.

"What the hell was that?" Eric murmured quietly to Hyde, while Fez and Kelso had a cherry stem tying contest across the table.

Hyde shrugged, and pinched a cashew between his fingers before popping it into his mouth. "Casey, man. You know how he is."

"So he and Donna… they're the real deal?"

"I guess so."

Eric studied the top of the table quietly for a few moments. "I don't care what anyone says. I think Natalia could be mine."

Hyde didn't say anything.

"I mean… Pete Peterson. Seriously?"

Hyde shrugged. "That's been her story from day one, man. And she was kinda a mess that fall. I guess it could be true." Eric's shoulders slumped. "But, for what it's worth… I think you might be right."

Eric looked at him in amazement. "Yeah?" Then a thought occurred to him. "I mean, so… so what if that's true? What if she was pregnant, and she never told me, and now we have a kid?" He felt all of the alcohol from the evening coursing through his veins, and for the first time, he started to feel angry. Really angry. "How could she do that to me?"

Hyde popped another cashew in his mouth. "I dunno, man. Maybe she was just tryin' to hurt you as badly as you hurt her."

********************************************

"I'm glad you came over." Donna folded her legs underneath her on the squashy armchair in her living room. She clinked wine glasses with Jackie, who was on her couch. Natalia had been put to bed hours ago, Casey was out, and Donna was well in need of some grown-up time.

"No problem." Jackie nibbled on a piece of cheese. She swallowed her bite before continuing. "This is our second wine night this week, though. Is this gonna become a regular thing? Because I would totally be okay with that."

"Yeah, well. Eric's in town. So – maybe." Donna pointedly took another long swig.

"I know. Did you see him again or something?"

Donna nodded. "Yeah. Today. He wants to take Natalia out for ice cream." She buried her head in her hands. "I just… don't need this right now, Jackie."

"So tell him to piss off," she remarked, with attitude. "He can't just swing in and out of your life whenever he pleases."

"Exactly." Donna reached around her friend and poured herself a tad more.

"So then what's the problem?"

"I dunno." Donna faltered. "It's crazy, right? I have this great life, that I worked really hard to make for myself. And most importantly – Natalia. My job's great. The house is great. Casey's great. But Eric… he just. Something about him makes me feel like I'm 18 again. And I can't be acting 18, Jackie. I have a daughter."

"Well how did you feel when you were 18?"

Donna sloshed some wine around in her glass, and watched it circulate. "Scared."


	7. VII

Donna's front door was painted red, and Eric studied it carefully while he waited for her to answer the door bell. It wasn't lipstick red, or fire truck red. More of a nice, warm barn color. She had hanging baskets of flowers, too, on her patio. It was a far cry from how the Pinciotti's used to decorate and he was surprised that it looked nice. Homey. Décor hadn't been Donna's forte in the past.

"It's open!" came her call from inside.

Eric hesitated – he knew she wasn't expecting him – and then pushed the door open.

Donna was hunched over her kitchen sink, her long red hair tied back with a bandana and one arm somewhere down the drain. She straightened up when she saw him, a look of surprise and then annoyance briefly flashing across her face. He tried not to notice, but the tank top she was wearing was a little bit too small, and it hugged her curves. She didn't look like she'd had a baby. No siree.

"Uh. Hi." Eric eyed her as she pulled her hand from the mouth of the sink. It was streaked with something brown, and he chuckled a little at the absurdity of the situation. "What are you doing?"

"Tap dancing." She rolled her eyes, but he could tell she was masking a smile. Her eyes darted around, searching for a hand towel. The nearest one was on the counter by Eric, so he tossed it to her. "Thanks." Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds, before she cleared her throat. "Something's wrong with my garbage disposal."

"Oh." He rubbed his ear with one hand, awkwardly. "Do you, ah, want me to take a look at it?"

"No." Donna snorted. "You're terrible at this stuff."

Her smile belied the harshness of her words, and Eric blushed. She was right, of course, but that line might've worked on a New York girl.

"Plus," Donna continued, "I think there might be spiders down there."

"Shit." Eric waved his arms in front of him and took a step backwards. He made his voice waver. "Y-yeah, never mind. You look like you've got it covered." They shared a look, and he watched a giggle form on her lips and then burst free. It fluttered between them, and Eric felt it settle at the middle of his chest. His eyes shot to hers, wondering if she felt that spark, too. But her smile was gone as quickly as it had come, and she'd folded her arms across her chest.

"So. What are you doing here?"

Eric swallowed. "Just wanted to talk."

"About?"

"Well, actually, I wanted to know how you'd feel about calling a truce." His eyes searched hers, waiting for them to soften again.

"A truce," she repeated slowly.

"Yeah. I just… it looks like I'm gonna be around for a little while, and my mom needs help at her daycare, you know? So I was gonna… help her," he finished lamely. Donna stared at him, silently waiting. She looked like she was getting impatient, so Eric hastily continued. "And so, you know, I figure for Natalia's sake, you and I… we should – we should call a truce. At least promise to be civil. Like neighboring countries," he added, with a small smile.

Donna didn't smile back. "It's hard for me to be civil when you keep harassing my daughter and I."

Eric winced. "About that. I – Donna, I'm gonna back off from now on. I promise."

Surprise flashed across her face. "Really?"

"Yeah." He spoke sincerely. "I'm sorry, okay? I'll stop bothering you about this."

"Well, thank you." She still held the hand towel in her hands, and wrung it thoughtfully.

It was true – he planned to back off. Last night on his cab ride home from the bar, he'd realized that making Donna defensive was not the way to get his answer. When she felt cornered, she lashed out. Even if he really was Natalia's father, she'd say he wasn't until she was blue in the face, just to spite him. So he needed a new plan. He was going to have to take the long way rather than a shortcut, and spend his time building her trust, and really getting to know Natalia. This conversation was step one.

"So. Truce?" He offered his hand, but Donna just looked at it.

"How long did you say you were staying?"

Eric dropped his outstretched hand back to his side, and sighed. "Indefinitely?"

"Hm." She lifted an annoyed eyebrow, and returned to her garbage disposal without another word.

"What?" Eric protested. She glared into the basin, at the pile of chopped food she'd apparently pulled from it, rather than at Eric. "I mean that I'm staying."

"Sure you are," Donna mumbled.

"No, really. I am."

"To do what? Volunteer at your mom's daycare?" She scoffed, and dug her arm back into the mouth of the sink. "Do you even have a job, Eric?"

"Ye –" he faltered. "Well… no." She gave him a pointed look, and Eric drummed his fingers against the counter, thinking. "Why? Is that what it will take to prove to you I'm for real? That I'm not leaving this time?"

Donna moved her head from side to side, but she still didn't look at him. "It'll help."

He grinned victoriously, though she couldn't see it. "Okay. Well, then the search is on."

She pulled her hand from the sink, once again covered in brown goop, and gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Super," she cheered sarcastically.

"And then maybe we can be friends."

Donna eyed him wearily. "Friends?" Eric nodded hopefully, and she sighed. "Eric. I think we'd better start with being civil."

He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of heavy boots on the patio silenced him. Donna's eyes met his in a panic before the front door opened, seconds later, and Casey stepped inside the house. He was holding a tool box, and his eyes quickly crossed to Eric.

"Foreplay," he exhaled, his voice flat. "What. A. Surprise." Casey ambled through the door and Eric practically flattened himself against the wall, looking to avoid the meaty fists that swung at his side. But surprisingly, after only one hard look at Eric, Casey turned his full attention to Donna.

"I heard there's a garbage disposal gone wild?" His tone was jovial, and he slung an arm around Donna's waist while he talked. Eric's heart sank a little when she smiled – a genuine smile.

"Yeah," Donna told him. "I tried to fix it, but…" she shrugged. Casey grinned and lifted her dirty, bare arm in his hands.

"'Swamp thing' is a good look on you, Pinciotti," he teased, and she giggled some more.

On the other side of the kitchen, Eric tensed. He would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he was listening carefully for any sort of tension, but they laughed easily and seemed comfortable, familiar in a way that made Eric ache. Suddenly, he felt very out of place. He moved towards the door and had his hand on the knob, hopeful he'd make a quiet escape, when –

"So. Is this gonna be a thing now, huh Foreplay? I come over, and you're here?"

Casey had opened up the cabinets underneath the sink and was working on a pipe with his wrench. He didn't look away from his work, but his menacing tone rooted Eric to the spot.

"N-no," Eric stammered. "Definitely not." He knew he should offer some sort of explanation, but his mind went completely blank. "Uh…"

"He was trying to help me with the disposal," Donna offered, from her perch on top of the counter. Her eyes darted to his, making sure he'd play along. "I, um, called Kitty and she sent him over."

"Is that right?" Casey set down his wrench and eyed Eric carefully, deciding if he bought the story or not. Eric gulped. He felt like a deer, caught in the crosshairs of Red's hunting rifle. Thankfully, Casey's furrowed brow relaxed into a smirk. "Well," he patted Donna's leg, "thank god you have a real man here, now. I'll take care of it." He shot another hard look Eric's way. "You can be leaving now," he said, and returned to his work.

"Great," Eric breathed, lifting his eyebrows in relief. Donna caught his eye before he stepped out into the morning air, but he couldn't read her expression.

***********************

A few hours later, Eric sat at his parents' kitchen table, several newspapers splayed out in front of him. He had each paper open to the 'Help Wanted' section, and he chewed the end of his red marker thoughtfully, ready to circle any potential jobs he could apply for. The problem was, none seemed to be jumping out at him.

Sitting down to write out his resume had been a painful process. It turned out that all he'd really done in five years was write a novel and help produce a movie – impressive digs if he were in Hollywood, but here in Point Place he wasn't sure how far that would get him. Most of the jobs he was looking at required a college degree, and he was lacking one of those. His year in Africa had been enlightening and the program was the very first thing he listed under 'Education'… but unfortunately he'd used the money they'd given him upon completion to pay for his apartment in New York, not a college education. It had seemed like a good idea at the time – what use did a famous novelist have for a degree? – but now he felt like, well, kicking himself in the ass.

Eric had just crumbled up another useless page of the paper into a ball when Red ambled into the kitchen. He stopped at the fridge and poured himself a glass of orange juice before turning around and heading for the door to the living room, without a word. Since Eric had returned home, Red had mostly crept around, like he was hoping Eric might not notice his presence. This behavior was only slightly preferable to what their relationship had been when Eric was in high school.

"Hey dad." Eric lifted one hand in a half-hearted wave, foiling Red's plan to leave the kitchen undetected.

Red paused, one hand on the living room door, and turned around. "Son."

"Mom told me you have a doctor's appointment today. Is everything, ah, alright?"

Red set his glass of juice down on the counter and sighed, defeated. "I'm fine. Just a check-up. Ever since my heart attack, your mom makes me go in for every damn little thing."

"Oh." Eric nodded, and really looked at his father for the first time since he'd been back. On the surface he was still the same – grumpy look on his face, plaid shirt stuffed into a pair of jeans. But the subtle signs of aging were there. His hair was thinner. Barely even there, really. He looked like he'd lost weight, too. Eric wasn't sure if it was intentional – the result of years of Kitty's nagging – or not. He'd been spending an awful lot of time upstairs in bed, too. Probably hiding from his mom's daycare kids – or maybe from Eric.

Red noticed the papers, and finally came to sit at the table with Eric. "You looking for a job here?"

"Yeah."

"So you're actually staying, then." Surprise flitted across his face.

"Yeah," Eric nodded. He looked up from the newspapers and capped his pen. "I told you I was."

Red gave a shake of his head and took a sip of his juice. "Okay, then."

He had the same guarded look Donna had today, and even his mother when he'd announced his plans to stick around. It was like they weren't getting their hopes up – but that was a strange sentiment coming from Red. Eric knew he'd hurt Donna when he'd gone away, and his friends, and especially his mother. His absence wasn't easy on them, but he'd never thought about hurting Red.

"One of my friends from the war," Red cleared his throat, shaking Eric from his thoughts. "Skip. His wife, ah… Margaret? Marla?" He shook his head. "She started some fruity private school in Rockford. It has a funny name." He paused for almost a full minute, entranced with swirling his juice around his glass. He looked anywhere but at Eric. "It's one of those schools where the teachers don't have to be smart. I guess I could make a phone call, and see if you could apply there."

Eric gaped at him. Was he offering to help? "Uh. Wow. Thanks, Dad." He furrowed his brow. "Did you… d'you mean that I don't have to be certified to teach there?"

"That's it," Red nodded. He shrugged. "They hire hippies. They'll probably hire you."

"That's… awesome." Eric folded the newspaper shut and nodded, unsure if he was touched or not by his father's gesture. "I'll take an interview as soon as possible."

Red had finished his glass, and he tipped it back and forth in his hands carefully, watching the left over droplets of juice skirt across the glass. "Why'd you decide to do this, anyway?"

"To stay?"

Red nodded. "Your mother wants to know."

Eric blew out a breath. "I don't know. There's just some… unresolved conflicts I need to wait out."

"Hmpph."

Red looked ready to make a break for it, so Eric hastily changed the subject. "Hey, you know Natalia?"

"Donna's kid?" Red looked up, surprised.

"Yeah," Eric nodded. "I-I think she might be mine."

Red shook his head right away. "That's not what Donna says. Some guy from –"

"Yeah, a rich doctor she had a one night stand with," Eric finished for him. "I've heard that story. But considering the timeline…" he trailed off. "I just, I think there's a chance."

Red was silent. He stared at his hands, which seemed more gnarly and wrinkled than Eric had ever remembered them. In all his years, Eric had never thought of Red as old. He was too strong to be old. But now, that presence seemed gone. Had Red changed, or had Eric? "I don't know, son. I would be mighty careful." He met Eric's gaze, and his green eyes held a softness Eric hadn't seen in them in years. "That might not be what you wanted to hear."

Eric felt a surge of anger overtake his chest. Sometimes when he was a teenager, he had imagined that Red sat up at night, thinking up the one thing he could say to agitate Eric the most. "Look, I'm not asking for your opinion, Dad. You asked why I'm staying, and that's why. Because if she is mine and I missed out on these five years…" he shook his head, his mouth set in a firm line, unable to finish his thought.

"Yeah," Red stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the linoleum loudly as he made his exit. "Missing out on five years with your kid. Nothing easy about that."

*********************************

Jackie turned in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, and eased her hands down her sides, smoothing over the shiny, black fabric. Steven was going to swallow his tongue when he saw her in this.

"Jackie?"

She spun around and clamped a hand over her chest, startled by the dark skinned man leaning against the door frame. Fez held a block of solid chocolate in his palm, and he bit into it casually, as if it were an apple. "You are going out? Again?"

"Um. Yeah." She smoothed a hand over her taut stomach, suddenly aware of how skin-tight her outfit was. "Jenni, from work? It's her bachelorette party tonight. Remember? I told you." She hadn't, but it was a good lie. It seemed like all of her friends were getting married these days.

"Oh." Fez's face relaxed. "I thought that was last weekend."

"Last weekend was Allison's bridal shower," Jackie reminded him, turning back to the mirror to apply some bright red lipstick. "Allison" was a friend she had made up entirely.

"Forgive me," Fez set down his chocolate and licked his fingers clean of the residue before sidling up behind Jackie. He wrapped his arms around her waist and smiled at her in the mirror. "You have so many friends, it's hard to keep track."

His accent of the word 'friends' made Jackie's blood run cold. Did he mean…? She stood statue still, her lipstick poised in midair, but Fez still held his easy smile.

"Your girlfriends get to have you in the evening," he continued, mischievously, "As long as I get you after dark." Jackie relaxed – he was still oblivious – but tensed again when he pressed a soft kiss to her neck.

She bit her lip, and forced herself not to wriggle free from his grasp. "I – I might be late tonight, actually."

His face fell, and he stepped away from her when she smiled sympathetically. "How late?"

She shrugged and applied a little more blush. "You know how these things go, Fezzie."

He frowned and flopped backwards onto their bed. "Someday soon I'm going to surprise you with a romantic getaway," he insisted. "To Chicago, or maybe Minneapolis."

"Or Mexico," Jackie offered from across the room, still primping in the mirror. One good thing about Fez was that he genuinely listened to her – and he didn't shy away from her expensive tastes.

"Anything you want, my pet."

"That sounds nice," she spoke softly, gazing at his forlorn form in the mirror. He was stretched out across her pillow staring at her wantonly, appreciating the bounce of her hair and the shape of her dress, carefully put together for someone other than him. It almost made her feel guilty for where she was about to go – made her want to reconsider her plans. Almost.

***************************

The next day, Eric stood in the Hershel School's head office, his best blazer from high school tight around his shoulders.

"I'm still a bit confused." Dean Marcene Willis leaned forward, her elbows propped against her heavy oak desk. "Why would you like to teach here?"

Eric cleared his throat and tried not to be intimidated by the dean's deep voice, tight bun, and wood-paneled office. She'd agreed to see him during her fifteen minutes for lunch, but it appeared Red's name wasn't going to go as far as Eric had hoped. She stabbed a few pieces of lettuce from her salad onto her fork, popped it in her mouth, and stared at Eric expectantly.

Hesitantly, he held up a hardcover copy of his book. "I wrote a bestselling novel," he offered. The dean's expression didn't change.

"Yes?"

Eric stretched his arm out, silently offering to let her take a look. She shook her head.

"Oh, I've already read it. And truth be told, I wasn't impressed."

"Oh." Eric's shoulder slumped. That ace in the hole was all he had.

Carefully, the dean set down her fork and wiped her mouth with her napkin. She looked at Eric, not unkindly, and folded her hands on top of her desk. "Mr. Forman. Why don't you tell me the real reason you want a job here."

"Um." Eric cleared his throat, and began his rehearsed rhetoric. "Well, I'm looking to return to Wisconsin for the long-term, and I need something to anchor me here. I taught some in Africa, and I think I can be good at it. Relating to kids, making connections… I want practice with that."

The dean stared at him, and twirled a pen between her fingers. "Okay," she spoke slowly. "But why should I hire you?" Eric reached for his book again, and she shook her head. "Nuh uh. That isn't a reason. Not a good one, anyway."

Eric faltered. Suddenly the dress shirt and tie he wore felt much too constricting. Was he sweating? Nervously, he pulled at his collar and the dean frowned sympathetically.

"Look, I'd like to hire you. Your father is a dear friend. But I am responsible for the education of my students, and I need to know if I can entrust that education to you. What wisdom do you have to impart?"

Eric swallowed. "Well, I can write. And, um. Read," he finished lamely.

"Fascinating."

Eric's shoulders slumped, defeated. "Okay, look," he admitted. "I've never done this before, and I don't know if I'm gonna be any good at it." The dean raised a manicured eyebrow. "But I really do want to try, and I'd love to help kids. Plus, c'mon, don't you think 'Mr. Forman' has a nice ring to it?" She stared at him oddly. "I – okay," he hastily continued. "I never thought I could write, but it came out in me when someone made me realize that I had something to say."

The dean leaned back in her chair and peered at him over the top of her glasses, looking intrigued for the first time. She picked up his resume and glanced at it again. "One of your professors in Africa?" she guessed. "It says here that you took some adult-education courses while you were there."

"No," Eric shook his head. "I mean, yes. That writing course was the beginning of my career. But it was someone else who… who inspired me. Who taught me that I have a voice." He swallowed, making this realization for the first time. "And I would love it if I could reach even one kid the way I was reached. It empowered me, and it… it changed my life," he finished sincerely.

The dean studied him closely, her pen perched between her lips. Finally, she raised her eyebrow. "That's the first earnest thing you've said since you walked into my office."

Eric smiled hopefully, and she sighed, shuffling some papers.

"I suppose I could give you one class. The sixth grade creative writing elective."

"That's perfect. That's all I need," Eric insisted.

"It doesn't pay much," she cautioned, and Eric shook his head.

"I'm not in it for the money, Dean."

"Fine, then." She pursed her lips. "I've been looking for a way to pay back your father for years now. He pulled my husband out of a sinking tank in Korea."

Eric pressed his hands together. "Well, thank you. Really. I'll – I'll tell him." He gave the intimidating woman an awkward bow of sorts, and headed for her office door, eager to get out of there before she changed her mind. She stopped him with his hand on the knob, though.

"Your book," she called to him. "Does it have a sequel?"

Eric turned around. "I thought you didn't like it."

She shrugged. "I didn't care for the writing style, but your characters were so real. I want to know what happens to them."

"So do I," Eric mumbled.


	8. VIII

Chapter 8 (VIII)  
September, 1984

Eric reached a trembling hand up to straighten his necktie for the millionth time, and glanced at the clock behind his desk. T-minus five minutes until the bell would ring, and his 5th period Creative Writing class would file through the doors.

There was no reason to be nervous, he assured himself. They were just kids, after all. He’d take attendance, play a get-to-know-you game, and have them write a little something about themselves. Easy-peasy. Nothing to it, really. How hard could teaching be?

Dean Marcene Willis, who had grudgingly hired him a few days ago, had seemed…. cautiously optimistic as she walked him through the school, showed him to his class, and handed him his roster. He’d tried to lighten the mood when she’d asked him how he was feeling, and Eric cringed now, remembering their interaction.

“Well, I feel pretty confident. You know that saying – those who can’t do, teach? Well I can’t do much of anything, so I must be meant for this work!”

Dean Willis had stared at him with a blank expression. “Those of us who have dedicated our lives to education,” she’d said, “Do not find that saying to be particularly apt, or funny.”

“Oh. Uh, right.” He’d rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

So hey, at least he was off to a good start!

At breakfast that morning, his mother had been cheerful and supportive as always. She made French toast for the daycare kids’ breakfast, but threw on a side of bacon just for him as a wish for good luck. Red sullenly sipped at his black coffee and barely spared a grunt as Eric left, but that was par for the course. To look at him, you’d never know that he’d called in a huge favor to land Eric the job. Not that it mattered.

What mattered was that Donna would see that he was serious about staying in Point Place. He’d hold down a job in order to prove to her that she could trust him to stick around, and that he wanted nothing more than to get to know Natalia and help raise his child. His child. The thought still sent chills running down his spine. His next thought was conflicted – because surely Donna knew that he would’ve been there for her if she’d been honest about her pregnancy from the start. Right? Thinking of all the moments he’d lost with Natalia and would never get back made his heart ache, but he quickly snapped back to reality. He couldn’t do anything about what he’d already missed, but he could make sure that neither of them lost out on anything else, ever again.

RING! RING!

The sound of the school bell echoing through his sparsely decorated classroom sent Eric spinning from his reveries. Just a few moments later, the heavy wood door to the classroom swung open, and a pair of preteen boys shoved and chortled their way into the classroom.

Right. He should write his name on the board. That’s what teachers did.

Eric’s hands shook slightly as he grasped a piece of chalk in his hand, and wrote ‘Mr. Forman’ in loopy, cursive letters.

Slowly, more students began to file into the classroom and take a seat at one of the desks scattered around the room. They all watched him tentatively, and he did his best to smile and project a ‘I’m cool, but not to be fucked with’ vibe. He remembered his middle school days, and how vicious they were to new teachers. A few moments later the second bell rang, indicating the start of 5th period. Eric glanced out across the sea of young faces – 17 of them, to be exact – and felt his heart sink down into his stomach. Shit. What now?

“W-welcome to Creative Writing,” he decided on. He quickly cleared his throat, hoping no one had noticed the slight waver in his voice. “I’m Mr. Forman, and I’ll be your teacher.” Great. Good start. Get all the important information out there. Eric swallowed. “Um, we’ll be doing lots of… well, writing in here. I guess you probably got that from the name.” He smiled, but the students stared blankly back at him. One of them yawned loudly. “Right. I guess I’ll start with attendance, then.”

He headed over to his desk to grab the class roster, but in his haste, he knocked his coffee mug over with his hand. It spilled all over the surface of his desk and dribbled onto his chair indifferently. A few kids laughed, but most still sat silently watching. 

“Oh great,” Eric exclaimed, grabbing for the roster and pulling it away from the pooling liquid just in the nick of time. “I, uh… I meant to do that. You know, first day jokes. For your entertainment.” He crossed to the front of the room to stand at his podium, and adjusted his reading glasses as he glanced down at the class roster. “Um. Okay. Abernathy? Uh, Clyde Abernathy? Raise your hand.”

“Me.” A tough looking kid in the back row jabbed his arm into the air half-heartedly.

“Great. Clyde. Got it.”

“Aren’t you going to clean that up?” A small girl with glasses on spoke up from the center of the room. She was watching the coffee drip to the floor with her nose scrunched up, and immediately Eric was reminded of Jackie.

“Uh. No. Not right now.”

“It’s going to stain,” she said, matter-of-factly. “And I already know that I’m the next one on your list. My name is Jemia Blackburn, pronounced Jem-My-Uh not Jem-Ee-Uh. I really hate when teachers get that wrong, so maybe you should, like, write it down.”

“Jemia. Right.”

“Jem-My-Uh.”

“Right, right. That’s uh, a unique name. Pretty. I like it.”

“Did you just call me pretty? I’m 12.”

“No,” Eric dropped his clipboard onto the podium with a clatter and put his hands in front of him in protest. “No, no. Your name is pretty. Not you.”

“Now I’m ugly?”

A few of the students started laughing and talking amongst themselves, and Eric felt his forehead start to break out in a nervous sweat. This was starting to feel too much like middle school, except now instead of the teacher he was the shy, awkward kid all the others picked on. If it weren’t for Donna and Hyde, no one would have talked to him when he was in sixth grade. Those old worries of being shunned and mocked started to prickle at the back of Eric’s mind. None of these punks would follow him into the bathroom on his lunch break and give him a swirly in the toilet, would they?

“My mom said you’re famous,” a new voice chimed in from the side of the room. It belonged to a tall, blonde-haired girl. “You wrote some book. Right?”

“Uh… I did. Yeah.”

“She said it wasn’t that great. My mom.”

“O-okay, well, thanks for that opinion-”

“I hate writing,” a new voice declared. It was a dark-haired boy, in the back of the room. “It’s like, for girls. Or pussies.” The other boys in class tittered, and one offered him a high-five.

“Uh, let’s try not to use language like -”

“That’s so fucking sexist, Ricardo. Like I can’t believe you even think that.”

“Whoa, whoa, okay, the F-word isn’t cool you guys –”

“Ya’ll are being so rude, he’s clearly tryna take attendance. Like can you shut up for a minute?”

“Hey, thanks for the support –”

“Don’t tell me to shut up!”

“I’ll say what I want to say you stupid gringo –”

“ENOUGH!” The students all stopped talking and looked Eric’s way, but he might’ve been the most surprised of all to hear the authoritative tone that had come out of his mouth. He cleared his throat sheepishly. “Look. This class is Creative Writing. I’m Mr. Forman, and I’m going to be your teacher. I don’t care if you like my book or if you like me, but I can tell you right now that we’re going to be writing in here. A lot. It’s okay if you don’t like it, and it’s okay if you don’t do it a lot. But we are all going to practice together every day. It’s not a ‘boy thing’ or a ‘girl thing’, it’s just a person thing. And everybody can do it. So we’re going to start now.” 

Eric turned around to scrawl a prompt on the blackboard, and was shocked to be met with total silence.

“What… do… you…” Eric read the words aloud as he wrote them, “Love.” He turned around to face the class again. “Everybody take out a piece of paper right now, and answer the question. What do you love? There are no wrong answers.”

The class was silent. No one moved to get out a piece of paper. Eric felt his chest start thumping dangerously. Maybe he just wasn’t cut out for this. The dean would have to come rescue him. And then –

“Pizza.”

A jokester called it out from the back, and everyone started laughing. The tension delightfully dissipated. Grateful, Eric cracked a smile.

“That’s great. Write about pizza.”

******************************************

“Steven, you’re so cheap. I think you’re the only person on earth who doesn’t pay for cable, I swear!” Jackie shouted her criticism from the living room couch, while Hyde delicately removed the frozen pizza from the oven.

“Sorry doll. It’s just a corporate scam,” Hyde shouted back from the kitchen. “No one owns this mind.”

“Except me,” Jackie drawled. She splayed herself in the open doorway between the kitchen and the living room, doing her best to appear sexual despite her casual sweatpants and old rock n’ roll T-shirt.

“Nah, you don’t own it,” Hyde smiled, turning his back to her while he sliced the pizza with a pizza cutter. “You just live there.”

“I do?” Jackie cooed. She’d moved across the kitchen to sidle up behind him, and she slid her hands around his waist as she spoke.

“Damn right,” Hyde agreed easily. “Wish you’d pay some rent, actually.” Behind him, Jackie went silent. Hyde finished cutting the pizza and turned his body to look at her. “Hey,” he nudged her chin with his finger. “It was a joke.”

“Do you ever think about us living together?” Jackie blurted suddenly. “Like, what if I didn’t have to leave. Is that,” she hesitated. “Is that something you’d ever want?”

“Jackie…” Hyde’s tone was warning, and Jackie’s hopeful expression dropped.

“I know. I know what you’re going to say.”

“You’re –”

“With Fez,” Jackie finished his thought. “I know. It’ll never work in the real world.” She’d pulled away from him and jammed her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants, not unlike a pouty teenager.

“I wasn’t going to say that.” Hyde smiled gently, and Jackie looked at him quizzically. “Actually wanted to talk to you about something, okay?”

“I’m listening.” Jackie smiled shyly, tentatively, and took a few steps closer to him.

“I don’t know how you’re gonna react, but –”

Hyde’s words were cut off by a loud, blaring sound coming from the TV in the living room. They both jumped, and Jackie leapt towards the living room to see what was going on.

“We interrupt this broadcast to inform you of an emergency weather alert,” a man’s voice boomed. “Kenosha County is officially under a severe weather warning. Severe storms, including hail damage and potential tornado clouds, have been spotted in the area. Get to safe ground and take cover immediately.”

“Shit,” Hyde muttered. “Okay, we have to go down to the basement by the laundry rooms and stuff. C’mon.”

Jackie, however, was frantically pulling on her pea jacket. “What? No. Steven, I have to go home.”

“Jackie, it’s a freaking tornado warning. That’s not safe.”

“Fez thinks I’m at the gym,” she hissed, as she stuffed her right arm into the sleeve of her jacket. “He’ll be suspicious if I don’t go straight home.”

“It’ll be worse if you die, Jackie.”

“Oh, it’s four blocks. I’ll be fine,” she huffed. She paused, with her hand on the doorknob. “Wait. Steven, wait. You were going to say something. What were you going to say?”

Hyde hesitated for a moment, and then shook his head. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. Just go, okay? Get home.”

“Just tell me quick.” She pooched out her bottom lip in an attempt to garner sympathy. “Please, Steven?” she begged in her baby voice. “It might be the last thing I ever hear, who knows?”

“That’s not funny, Jackie,” Hyde responded sharply.

“Whatever,” she cackled, as she made her way out the front door. “You love me.”

The door shut behind her, and Hyde leaned his forehead against it. “Yeah,” he told his empty apartment. “That’s kinda my problem.”

****************************************

“Eric!” Red shouted from the basement. He was crouched over the fuse box, apparently fighting for some sign of life in the pitch black. “Where the hell are you with that damn flashlight?”

“Sorry –” Eric appeared at the top of the stairs, and gingerly made his way down the steps. “We couldn’t find it. Mom gave me a candle instead.” He held a small wax candle out in front of himself in explanation. “Ouch!” he yelped, as he reached the bottom step. “The wax dripped on me,” he said sheepishly when Red glared at him.

“Hold it over here so I can see what the,” Red paused and inhaled shakily, sounding suspiciously like a wheeze, “What the hell I’m doing.”

Eric obliged, moving closer to his father with the dim light the candle produced. He stared at him curiously. “You know, Dad, if you need to rest I could…um, I could take over.”

Red exhaled sharply, a laugh. “Yeah. Right.”

“I could,” Eric protested indignantly. “I’ve had my own apartment for years, okay? I know some of this stuff.”

“Okay smart guy. What do you do when the power goes out, then?”

Eric hesitated. “I feel like you won’t like my answer.”

“What’s your answer?”

“….call Jerry.”

“Who’s Jerry?”

“…The landlord.”

“Hrmmph.” Red made a sound between a laugh and a sigh. “I raised a boy who doesn’t know what a fuse box is. Isn’t that perfect.”

“Okay not to split hairs, but I know what it is, just not how to use it,” Eric began, but was cut off by Kitty, who was descending the stairs with a candle of her own.

“We have company, boys!” she said, accompanied by her signature laugh. “Look who it is: Donna and Natalia!”

Sure enough, a shadowy, hulked figure appeared behind Kitty. As she descended the basement stairs and stepped into the candle light, it was revealed to be Donna, holding a sleeping Natalia in her arms. “Sorry,” Donna spoke softly. “We don’t have a basement, and I didn’t know what else to do.” She shrugged helplessly, jarring Natalia for a brief moment before the preschooler fell back against her mother’s shoulder, blessedly undisturbed.

“Do you want me to take her?” Eric offered, moving forward with his arms extended, Red’s fuse box needs forgotten.

Donna jerked away from him rather sharply. “No,” she said. “Natalia is a deep sleeper,” she offered a moment later. “Like, dead to the world. We can just put her on the couch here, and she’ll sleep right through this.” She gently deposited her daughter on the basement couch and then covered her with the blanket that had been draped over the back.

“Sounds a lot like this one,” Red jerked his head towards Eric and made his way across the basement, apparently through with his investigation of the fuse box. “He slept through the tornado of ‘64 – just clean through it. Remember?” he nodded to Kitty.

“Oh, yes. Laurie wasn’t like that at all. She was awake and scared through the whole thing, the poor dear.”

“Shaking like a leaf,” Red agreed. “I remember.” He took a seat on the armchair next to the coach, and gazed at Natalia. “I wish I could be that peaceful,” he remarked.

“See? She sleeps like the dead,” Donna agreed, taking a seat in a nearby folding chair. “Like, once Casey hosted a party for all the employees of his construction company. They were all over the kitchen and the living room and she slept right through it all, just a few feet away in her bedroom.”

“How is Casey?” Kitty asked the question with her hands clasped together eagerly.

“He’s good.” Donna smiled. “Still building a lot. His company owns that new block of residential units off the highway. He’s there tonight, actually. He called me to say that they’re hunkering down in a trailer one of the builders has out there.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Kitty nodded vigorously. “A man like that knows how to keep safe.” She laughed flirtatiously, and Eric glanced at her out of the side of his eyes.

“Yeah,” Donna agreed. “I’m never worried about him.” A few beats of silence passed, and Donna gently chewed on the inside of her lip and looked at the ground, clearly a bit uncomfortable discussing her love life with her estranged ex-boyfriend and his parents.

Kitty, unaware of Donna’s discomfort, cheerfully continued on with one of her favorite topics. “And I’m sure he’s so great with Natalia. A man like Casey can be so rugged but sensitive at the same time.”

“Of course,” Donna answered, just a little bit too quickly. Eric glanced at her, wondering if anyone else had heard the edge in her voice just now. “They love each other.” The odd tone in her voice was gone as soon as it had arrived, and Eric stared at her just a moment too long. She must’ve felt his eyes on her, because her glance snapped to him, and then back to the floor just as quickly. 

“How sweet,” Kitty cooed. She patted Red’s knee, next to her. “Isn’t that sweet, Red?”

“Kitty…” He started, his tone one of warning. He looked like he had another thought to add, but suddenly his mouth began to twitch, preventing him from getting another word out.

“Dad?” Eric frowned and moved to the edge of his own chair. Kitty reached over to grab Red’s arm.

Red shook his head, and a few moments later the twitching appeared to stop. “Do I need to tell you to stop fawning over a younger man? Again?” he continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted at all.

“Oh, now stop it,” Kitty protested. “You know I have eyes for only you!”

Eric ignored his mother’s signature laugh. “Dad, are you okay?”

“The hell do you mean?”

“You, like – I don’t know, what was that?” Eric glanced over to Donna, curious if she was seeing what he was, and she gave him an almost imperceptible shrug. 

“Must be the dampness of the basement air,” Kitty quickly answered for him. “It’s not good to breathe in, you know. I don’t know how you kids spent so much time down here when you were growing up. All the stale air and strange smells… it’s just a wonder you didn’t all develop asthma!”

“Right,” Eric spoke slowly, carefully studying both of his parents. 

Suddenly, the lights flickered on again.

“Oh, wonderful!” Kitty exclaimed. She stood up and turned the TV on, then found the weather channel.

“It looks like the immediate threats to the greater Kenosha area have dissipated,” the weatherperson announced. “The storm now appears to be moving south, towards the Chicago metro area.”

Red grunted his approval. “Good. Time to get out of this damn basement.”

Kitty sprang up from her seat, and immediately offered Red her arm. He ignored it, and slowly pulled himself to his feet. It took him longer than it used to, and Eric almost felt the urge to offer his father a hand. A hand he knew would be declined. 

“Stay, Donna, please. If you want to,” Kitty gushed as Red stiffly made his way towards the basement steps. “We’re going to head upstairs, but you know that you and Natalia are always welcome to stay here. Even if… well,” she waved her hand in the air, as if to dismiss an idea. “You’re just always welcome.”

“Thanks Mrs. Forman,” Donna smiled warmly. “But I have to get her home. We’ll all sleep better in our own beds.”

Red made his way up the stairs more slowly and stiffly than Eric had ever remembered, but he supposed that was the way of getting older. Kitty followed closely behind him, and whisper-shouted her goodnights so as to not wake the sleeping Natalia.

When Eric heard the door at the top of the stairs click shut, he turned to look at Donna. She was still seated in her folding chair, clearly listening to the weather broadcast but staring at Natalia while she slept. On the couch, Natalia twitched briefly in her sleep, and Donna grinned as she watched her tranquil daughter. Tentatively, Eric took a seat on another folding chair across the room.

“You should stay,” he offered after a moment. “Look, it’ll be safer. And she’s already asleep. I can bring you something. Like, the cushions from the couch upstairs? So you don’t have to sleep on the ground,” he explained.

“No,” Donna spoke softly, reminding Eric to whisper in the presence of a sleeping child. “We’ll go home in a minute. I just want to see the rest of the broadcast. You know, make sure we’re really out of the woods.” She paused. “But thanks,” her eyes met his and settled there.

Eric swallowed, not knowing what to say for a few beats. Then without warning, he blurted, “I got a job.”

Donna frowned. “In Point Place?”

“In Rockford. At a school. I’m a teacher.”

Donna seemed taken aback. “Wow,” she finally settled on. “I, um, didn’t know you were serious about the whole teaching thing. Or the staying here thing,” she trailed off softly.

“Well I am,” Eric supplied. “Today was my first day. And it went great.”

“Really?”

Eric paused. “Okay… no. Great probably isn’t the word,” he admitted.

Donna laughed a little bit. “No? Were the kids mean to you?” Her tone was sarcastic and mocking, and just what Eric had been missing about their friendship for so long.

“A little bit, yeah. They were,” Eric chuckled. “Like, who knew that teenagers have this attitude? Wasn’t expecting that.”

“Oh, I can’t wait for her teenage years,” Donna jerked her head towards the still blissfully asleep Natalia. “People say that your kids are payback for your own adolescence, right? Not really sure how I should be preparing,” she joked.

Eric tilted his head to the side. “You weren’t a bad kid.”

“Not a bad kid,” Donna agreed, “But I don’t think I was an easy one, either.” She looked at Natalia thoughtfully. “She’s been nothing but easy, so far. I think that means I’m in for it once she hits high school.”

Eric shrugged. “I have a feeling she’ll be okay.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you raised her,” Eric answered honestly. 

Donna flushed, and didn’t seem to know what to say. “Well… thanks,” she said, finally. “I’m not always so sure about that. Raising her alone, I mean, without her dad… I don’t always know if I’m doing things right,” she admitted.

“You are. She’s a great kid.”

“How do you know that?” she scoffed.

Eric shrugged. “She’s my friend.”

Donna’s eyes narrowed. “Natalia can’t be your friend. Natalia is four.”

“We’ve been chatting,” Eric said. “At daycare. She likes Star Wars and my mom’s lemon bars, I mean… what’s not to love?”

Despite herself, Donna laughed. “Yeah, I guess I can’t blame you. She’s definitely the best person I know.” She glanced over at her daughter affectionately. 

Eric fought the urge to ask Donna again – what was the deal with Natalia’s father? Had she really conceived her in a one night stand just weeks after he’d left for Africa, or was she just afraid to tell Eric that she’d kept the truth from him for so long? Maybe if she knew he wouldn’t be mad or blame her, she’d be honest with him. He thought about how best to word that, when the news broadcast interrupted.

“Kenosha County is all clear,” the weatherperson on TV announced authoritatively. “Repeat, Kenosha County is all clear, no risk of hail storms or tornados appear on radar. The storm has moved to the south.”

“Well, we’re gonna head back home then,” Donna stood, and carefully scooped Natalia back into her arms. The little girl shifted in her mother’s arms, but remained dead sleep. “Tell your parents thanks for letting us come over, okay?” She paused at the door to the basement. “And, um. Congrats on your job, Eric. That’s great.” She gave a half-hearted smile.

Eric crossed the room, and gently eased around Donna and Natalia to open the door for them. “Yeah, of course. I will.” Donna stepped outside. “And, uh. Thanks. That means a lot.”

Donna smiled tightly. “Good night,” she whispered, before heading up the concrete stairs.

“Night,” Eric swallowed. He wondered if he’d ever get the answer he was looking for – or if she’d already answered him, and he just didn’t want to accept it.


	9. IX

Chapter 9 (IX)  
October, 1984

“Alright Natalia,” a tired Donna brought her hand up to wipe a bead of sweat forming at her brow line, as she closed the heavy front door behind her and deposited her briefcase sloppily at her feet. “It’s Friday, so you know what that means –”

“PIZZA NIGHT!” Natalia cut her off excitedly, and Donna smiled at the little girl bouncing with excitement in front of her.

“That’s right. So go change out of your school clothes,” Donna gently tugged her daughter’s jean jacket from her shoulders as she spoke, “And then we’ll go to Rocky Rococo’s to pick it up, okay?”

“Rooockkkyyy Recoco-nuts,” Natalia sang, off-key, as she tore up the stairs for her bedroom.

“No pajamas and no ballet clothes in public, Natalia,” Donna called after her, as a reminder. For some reason, the child wanted to live in those. Donna shook her head, and began to move Natalia’s small purple backpack from the foyer to the front closet. Today had been one of Natalia’s two days per week at her Pre-K program, which she attended at the church across town. It was the same one Donna had attended as a little one, in fact.

Donna opened the backpack to rifle through it quickly before putting it away. They didn’t assign the preschoolers homework, but sometimes sent home library books, permission slips, newsletters and other odds and ends for parents. Sure enough, Donna found an order form for Natalia’s school pictures, which had been taken a few weeks ago. She slid open the envelope to see her daughter with matching auburn braids, a big cheeky smile on her face, and her ‘most favoritest’ Star Wars t-shirt that she had insisted upon wearing for picture day. She rifled a bit lower into the backpack to find the order form. Surely Red and Kitty would want one of those, and Hyde, and she’d definitely send one to her dad down in Florida.

But instead she pulled out a small, blue half-sheet of paper. ‘Daddy-Daughter Pre-K Dance!’ the flyer announced in big, bold letters. ‘Bring your dad to school for some dancing and snacks with your friends and teachers!’ The location was the church basement, and the date was this evening. Donna stared at the paper in her hand, uncomprehending, for a moment. Why would they…?

“Okay I’m ready,” Natalia announced. She’d arrived back to the foyer in an interesting outfit, par for the course with her budding fashion preferences: a striped pair of leggings, pink cowboy boots, and what appeared to be the top of a swimsuit she owned. “I want pepperoni, okay mom?”

Choosing to ignore her daughter’s fashion statement altogether, Donna held up the blue flyer from where she still sat, crouched in the foyer. “Natalia, what’s this?”

“I don’t know. I can’t read,” she shrugged.

“It says there’s a ‘Daddy-Daughter’ dance at your school. Tonight.” Natalia just shrugged at her mom again, her excitement clearly gone. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Donna continued, her tone more hurt than accusing. 

“I don’t know,” Natalia mumbled. “Cuz I can’t go, right?”

“Of course you can, baby. I mean, it’s short notice, but I’ll call Casey right now, okay? I know he would love to take you.” She stood and started to move towards the kitchen phone, but Natalia stopped her.

“No, I mean I can’t go cuz I don’t have a dad. Casey’s not my dad.”

“He’s like your step-dad. That’s close enough,” Donna crouched again, and held her daughter’s hands, but Natalia just shook her head.

“No, it don’t count.”

“Of course it counts, Natalia. What do you –”

“I don’t want to go!” the once joyful Natalia exploded at her mother. She yanked her hands out of Donna’s and ran back up the stairs, clearly upset. Donna jerked her head when she heard her bedroom door slam. She’d been hoping that kind of behavior wasn’t coming for another ten years, or so. In fact, she’d hoped a lot of these moments would wait… but apparently, they were here now.

Sighing, Donna dropped into a chair near the kitchen table. She gazed down at the flyer sadly, before crumpling it into a ball and throwing it at the garbage can in the corner. She missed, but didn’t move to go pick it up.

In her heart of hearts, she knew it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair because he didn’t know, and he didn’t know because she didn’t tell him. But these were the moments when she hated – absolutely hated – Natalia’s father. For not being there.

She knew why she made the decision. It felt rational at the time, when Natalia was born, and her father had up and left town without any contact information or promise of a return. He didn’t want to know, Donna had rationalized to herself. He didn’t want a child with her, and she didn’t want to ruin his life by tying him to this small town and this new, dependent life. And most important of all, Donna didn’t want a flaky father for her gorgeous new baby girl. She didn’t want to punish Natalia the way she felt she’d been punished by her father – in and out of her life, never knowing where she stood, or if he really loved her. 

So, she’d lied. Well, she’d exempted the information, she silently corrected herself. She’d raised Natalia as a single parent with an amazing village of supporters, and so far, everything had been fine. Great, really. 

But she’d known these moments were coming. She’d known that one day Natalia would ask about her father, or express hurt at not having one, and Donna would have to defend her choices. She bit her lip, now, glancing out the kitchen window towards the neighbor’s house. The Forman’s house. Maybe she was naïve, but she didn’t think this would be so hard. But when she imagined having the conversation with Natalia she just… couldn’t think of the right words. Maybe there weren’t any. Donna buried her head in her arms, and with the knowledge that her daughter wasn’t there to see it, let her tears flow.

****************************************

“… so that’s my explanation of what it means to ‘show and not tell’ in your writing.” Eric paused from his place next to the blackboard, and looked out over a sea of bored, young faces. “Does that make any sense?” he fished for a reaction from his students, glumly. “Any sense at all?”

The next sound in the classroom was the bell ringing, signifying the end of class, and then the frantic scraping of chairs and stuffing of papers into backpacks as his students fled the room as if a pack of wild wolves was after them.

“Great,” Eric spoke sarcastically to his rapidly emptying classroom. “So glad I could help today. Don’t forget, the first draft of your Everyday Heroes essay is due on Monday.” 

Exhausted, Eric dropped his cheerfully sarcastic tone and facial expression and moved from his podium at the front of the classroom to his desk. He dropped down into his chair unceremoniously and was just about ready to flop face-forward upon his desk with defeat when he noticed a student was lingering, near the back of the room.

“Micaiah?” Eric questioned. “Do you need something?” Micaiah was a quiet kid, and subsequently one Eric knew very little about. He seemed to be semi-popular and “in” with the cool kids in the class – something Eric knew literally nothing about – but he didn’t really participate in the profanity, arguing, and disobedience his classmates seemed to enjoy. Some days Eric wondered if they were all secretly working together, holding meetings before school to plan how to move their nefarious agenda forward today. Their goal must’ve been to make Mr. Forman quit. Or get fired.

“Sorry, Mr. Forman,” Micaiah apologized softly, as he made his way to the front of the classroom and towards Eric’s desk. “I was just wondering… well, I’m having a hard time with the essay. I don’t know what to write about.”

Oh, he planned to do the essay. That was better news than Eric had been expecting! “Oh,” Eric straightened up in his chair. “Well, it’s an essay about someone you think is an everyday hero. So you know, not your Superman, or Batman, or Luke Skywalker, but just a person in your normal life who you look up to.” Micaiah still looked unsure, so Eric offered, “A lot of kids are writing about their parents.”

Micaiah dropped his eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

“You don’t want to do that?” Eric frowned.

“Oh I’d like to,” Micaiah said. “I just ain’t got none.”

“Don’t have any,” Eric corrected softly, while his brain processed the rest of Micaiah’s statement.

“I live in a foster home,” Micaiah offered. “And they’re nice and all, I guess, but I only known ‘em three weeks. I don’t know if they’re heroes yet.”

Eric felt his heart sink down into his stomach. “Wow. I’m – I’m sorry, Micaiah. I didn’t know.”

Micaiah shrugged. “It is what it is. But I’m tryin’ to pass this class so I can raise my GPA. I gotta know what to write about.”

Eric swallowed and scrambled to regroup. “Okay. Well, you can write about someone else.”

“Like who?”

“Well,” Eric paused. “You know, sometimes our friends inspire us more than the adults in our life do.” He paused and gauged Micaiah’s reaction. He seemed to be listening. “I mean, I had a friend in junior high – you kind of remind me of him, actually. He never had the best parents, but he stuck up for everybody he knew. He was loyal, and he was a nice guy. One time a group of kids followed me home after school and were threatening to beat me up, and he came out of nowhere and saved me.”

Micaiah smiled a bit. “Yeah. You kinda skinny. I can see it.”

Eric smiled and put his hands up, “Yeah, yeah, so you have eyes. I get it, wise guy.” Micaiah smiled bigger, so Eric continued. “Or, another friend I used to have. She – she was always challenging me to be better, you know? To think in a different way, to act a different way. She’s actually a writer, too, and a really good one. She writes a lot about what’s fair and what’s not, and what types of changes our world should make to be a better place for everyone.” Eric paused, and his voice softened. “I think if I was going to write this essay, I’d write about her.” There were a few moments of silence, and Eric wondered if he’d said the right things or not. But then slowly, Micaiah smiled.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Eric echoed. “Did that give you an idea?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Micaiah slung his backpack over his shoulder and headed for the door of the classroom. “Thanks Mr. Forman. You alright.”

I’m alright, Eric thought to himself. It was the best compliment he’d received in months.

**********************************************

“Close your eyes, my pet,” Fez instructed lovingly. He held Jackie by her shoulders, and slowly guided her from their living room to their kitchen.

“I am, Fezzie,” Jackie squeaked. But secretly, she was peeking. “Oh my gosh,” she put her hands to her mouth as they entered the kitchen, the charade of closing her eyes forgotten. “You cooked!”

“That’s right, you liar,” Fez laughed affectionately as he made his way over to the stove. “Chicken with wine sauce, French bread,” he gestured over each item as he said it. “And for dessert, your favorite, creamy Crème Brulee.”

“I can’t believe you did this,” Jackie gushed. “I feel like I’m in France. Or on a cooking show!”

“I may have taken a cooking class in Kenosha last weekend while you were away at your girls’ night,” Fez admitted, as he poured them both a glass of expensive French wine. He gestured to the table and then pulled out Jackie’s chair for her. “Please, mademoiselle. Have a seat.”

“All that for me?!” Jackie wrinkled her nose up in disbelief and flattery.

“All that and more for you,” Fez agreed easily. He reached for her plate and began dishing her the contents of the meal. “When we are married, I don’t want you to have to be the one who cooks all the time. It’s too much for one person. I need to learn, too.”

“Well that’s sweet.” Jackie took a bite of the chicken, and closed her eyes in bliss. “Fez, this is amazing.”

And it was. Both the food, and the fact that she’d managed to snag a man who was so thoughtful, kind, and excited to pamper her. When they were younger she would’ve laughed if you’d told her that she’d be engaged to Fez one day, but as they’d grown older she’d really come to appreciate the qualities Fez brought to the table. For instance, he was constantly showering her with attention and gifts, never shied away from sharing his strong feelings for her, and they both wanted marriage and children in the near future. Steven would never.

Jackie smiled at Fez across the table, and he led them in clinking wine glasses in a cheers.

“To us getting married this year,” Fez spoke before taking a sip of his wine. Jackie followed suit, but almost choked on her sip.

“This year? Fez, it’s already October. And we’re not even engaged.”

“Okay, within the next 12-months I mean,” Fez shrugged. “I just – can’t wait anymore to start our lives together.”

“Alright, well, you need to put a ring on it first, buddy.” Jackie wiggled her bare right hand at Fez across the table, really just to buy herself some time to think. Marriage? Was she ready for that next step?

“Have I not proposed to you yet?” Fez feigned confusion, and Jackie laughed and shook her head. “No?” he continued. “Okay. Well, it’s coming.”

“Alright,” Jackie laughed.

Fez wore an easy smile, and took her hand in his across the table. “I’m serious, my love. It’s coming soon. Are you,” he hesitated for a moment, before collecting his confidence again. “Are you okay with that?”

Jackie sucked in a deep breath. Fez was… Fez. He was the nicest guy she’d ever met, he loved her more than anyone she’d ever met, but… he wasn’t Steven. As soon as the words entered her mind, Jackie shook her head as if to clear it. Steven was off the table. Steven had his chance. And he would never give her all of the things that she was certain that Fez would. This was the sure thing, the safe choice. And while that wasn’t necessarily the love story she dreamed of as a little girl, it meant a lot more to her today after – well, after what she’d been through.

Slowly, Jackie released her breath and smiled. She squeezed Fez’s hand. “Yeah. I’m okay with that.”

*********************************************************

“Hey, Hyde.”

Hyde turned around, surprised to hear a familiar voice but not quite sure how to place it. The mall was set to close in ten minutes, and he was on his way out to the back alley to dump the trash from Hole In The Wall before he began closing up the store for the night.

“Long time no see,” Casey Kelso schmoozed, offering his hand in a half-shake, as if they hadn’t seen each other at the bar just the other day.

“Casey,” Hyde nodded his acknowledgment and accepted Casey’s handshake. He stopped pushing the trash bin and stood with his arm resting casually atop it. Although he’d never really liked Casey growing up, he didn’t have any reason to outright avoid him. Not that they had much in common, though. Or frequently talked. “How goes it?”

“Oh, just another day in paradise,” Casey winked. “How ‘bout you?”

“Yeah man,” Hyde agreed. “Living the dream, over here at the Middleview Mall.” The two men paused, and sort of sized each other up for a moment. “So what brings you here?”

Casey shifted his weight from his front foot to his back, and gave a small, boyish grin. “Oh, you know. Just picking up something. Running an important little errand.” He gave the small, black plastic bag in his hand a shake.

Hyde nodded. “Cool, cool.” He was about to change the subject and make the case for continuing on to the dumpsters when Casey spoke again.

“Just a little present. For my girlfriend.” He accented the word ‘girlfriend’, and Hyde raised his eyes.

“Uh oh. You in the dog house?”

Casey laughed. “The opposite, my friend. I’m getting ready to lock her up… know what I mean?”

Hyde’s easy smiled wavered. “Lock her up?”

“Yeah. You know, seal the deal. Put the ring on her finger.” Casey jiggled the shopping bag in his hand pointedly. “Just think it’s time. You know?”

“Uh,” Hyde hesitated. “Haven’t you guys only been together for a little while? Like, what, a year maybe?”

“A year and five months,” Casey answered, just a bit too quickly. He shrugged. “Look, I just figured it’s what she’ll be expecting. I’m building a new house for us. Out in the development by the freeway. Seems like the next step.”

“Really?” Hyde frowned. “Have you told Donna yet? About the house?”

“Not yet. It’s gonna be a surprise. Women love surprises.”

“Yeah,” Hyde murmured, at a loss for what to say. “It just seems a bit… fast,” he settled on after a few moments. “I’ve known Donna a long time, enough to know she likes to take things slow.”

Casey stopped walking alongside Hyde abruptly, forcing Hyde to stop moving his trashcan and stop as well in order to continue the conversation. “Yeah, well, look,” Casey started, now sounding a bit agitated. “Some things have changed lately, and I’m reacting. That’s all.”

Hyde raised his eyebrow. “What’s changed?”

“Some things.”

“New person in town? That kind of thing?”

Now Casey set his jaw in a way that let Hyde know he was officially pissed. Casey raised a menacing finger, and jabbed it towards Hyde’s chest. “Look, you don’t know as much as you think you do, okay?”

Hyde raised his hands in front of him. “Hey, man, I –”

“But you know who does know everything that goes on in this town?” Casey continued. His expression changed to a leer. “Me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you shouldn’t be up on your high horse,” Casey sneered. “Because I know what you’ve been up to. For years now.” His expression turned to one of mock sadness. “How could you do that to your best friend? Huh?”

Hyde’s faced hardened, and Casey took the opportunity to reach out and playfully slap his cheek two times with his palm.

“It’d sure be a shame if anyone found out. Wouldn’t it?” Casey smirked at the blank expression on Hyde’s face. “Well good runnin’ into you,” Casey’s tone changed to a light-hearted one. “Glad you know where we stand. See you around, bud.”

He stalked off into the darkness of the closing mall, and Hyde leafed a hand through his curly hair and then slammed his fist down onto the top of the garbage bin he was accompanying. “Fuck!”

*************************************************

“Hey.” Donna knocked quietly at the slightly open door of Natalia’s bedroom, and took her daughter’s silence as an invitation inside. She gently pushed the door open, and then crossed the room to sit on the edge of Natalia’s twin bed.

Natalia was playing on the floor quietly with a care bear and she glanced up at Donna as she walked in, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry,” Donna began, her eyes almost immediately filling with tears despite the resolve she’d thought she’d built up prior to entering her daughter’s bedroom. “Honey – I’m sorry. I see that you’re upset about this, and that upsets me.”

Natalia set her care bear down gently, and crawled over to sit near her mother’s feet. “It’s okay,” she said in a small voice.

Donna reached down to gently stroke Natalia’s hair. “It’s okay to be upset.”

“I’m not.” A few moments of silence passed, and Donna continued to stroke her daughter’s hair. Then, in a shy voice, Natalia spoke up. “Did Dad leave because of me?”

“What?” It wasn’t that Donna didn’t hear, it was that she couldn’t believe the question was being asked.

“My dad,” Natalia said again, her voice breaking, almost in tears. “Did he leave because of me?”

Donna reached to the floor and scooped Natalia up, relocating her to her lap. She grasped Natalia’s face firmly in her hands and looked her in the eyes. “No,” Donna said, firmly. “Did you hear me? No. Dad left because of Dad, and you had nothing to do with it.” After a few moments, she shook Natalia’s face gently, looking for confirmation. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Natalia agreed, her voice still small.

“Do you know,” Donna began, “Do you know all the people who love you? More than life itself?” She began listing them. “Me. Ms. Kitty and Mr. Red. Grandpa. Uncle Hyde. Aunt Jackie and Uncle Fez –”

“I know, mama.”

“You are the most important thing in the world to us, Natalia. You know that. Right?”

“I know, mama.”

“Do you?” Donna questioned, taking Natalia’s face into her hands. “Because we would do anything for you. I would do anything for you. I need you to know that.”

“It’s okay,” Natalia whispered, reaching for her mom’s face. She touched Donna’s cheek gently.

“Good,” Donna smiled. She released the intensity she was holding in a sigh. “Because I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise? Is it cupcakes?” Natalia asked, jumping to the ground with renewed gusto.

“Better,” Donna promised. She went to the door, and produced two tulle-skirted dresses from the hallway. “Matching dresses. The twirly kind, that you like,” Donna extended the smaller dress towards her enthusiastic daughter. “We’re going to go to that dance together, and we’re going to rock out. Are you in?”

“Oooh,” Natalia took her dress gleefully. She held it up against her body and twirled like a ballerina. “Just us?” she checked. “No dad?”

“Nope. No boys allowed.”


	10. X

Chapter 10 (X)  
October, 1984

“Well, well, well. Look who decided to make an appearance!” Red snarked as Eric pushed open the swinging door between the living room and the kitchen. It was nearly noon, and Eric was still wearing his pajamas and sporting bedraggled hair. He held up his hand to his father in protest, but moments later he moved it in front of his mouth to stifle a yawn.

“Hey,” Eric began. “It’s Saturday, and I need my sleep. Teaching those monsters – it’s no joke, alright?”

“Yeah,” Red agreed, mock sympathy laden in his tone. “That one class you teach a day must really take it out of you.”

“Boys, boys,” Kitty interrupted. She scooted between them. “Now, Red, he’s a hard worker and needs his sleep on his day off.” Despite Red’s ribbing, it was true – even though it was only one class, Eric found himself exhausted by the time the weekend rolled around each week. Between the constant discipline and classroom management he was responsible for, to the emotional energy of being “on” with the kids all the time, to the effort and time it took to plan meaningful lessons and then grade their work and give feedback that would help them grow as writers… none of it was as easy as Eric had imagined. 

“I put some leftovers from brunch in the fridge for you, Sweetie,” Kitty continued. Then she turned her attention to Red. “And you. We need to leave soon. You remembered to put on the underwear I ironed for you, right?” 

“Jesus, Kitty. The boy,” Red hissed, gesturing towards Eric.

“Yeah, ‘the boy’ has zero interest in what kind of underwear you have on. Same page. Thanks.” Eric took the plate Kitty fixed for him from the fridge, and lifted himself up to sit on the counter while he dug in greedily with his fork. “Where are you guys going, anyway?” He paused. “I mean… do I want to know?”

“No,” Red snapped, just as Donna entered the kitchen through their sliding door. Just like when they’d been growing up, no one ever knocked. The Forman’s house was all of theirs.

“Donna, what a nice surprise,” Kitty smiled. “Want me to fix you some brunch?”

“Hi Mrs. Forman,” Donna gave a light wave. “Oh, no, that’s alright. We had waffles this morning. Casey’s special recipe.”

“Wow,” Kitty began. “He cooks, he owns his own business, and he’s not hard to look at,” she gushed. “What more could you want?” Eric rolled his eyes. His mother’s obsession with Casey Kelso had really run its course.

“Yeah,” Donna smiled briefly, but it faded quickly. Eric detected a sense of urgency. “Um. Look,” she began. “I’m so sorry to ask last minute like this, but would you be able to watch Natalia tonight? Casey’s company has their annual banquet tonight, and our babysitter Jess just called to say she’s got the flu and can’t make it.”

“Oh, shoot.” Kitty brought her hands up to her mouth. “You know I would, honey. But Red and I – well, we have something going on, and I’m not sure when we’ll be home tonight. Did you ask –”

“Jackie,” Donna finished for her. “Yeah. Her mom’s in town and she and Fez have plans with her. Hyde too. I mean,” Donna corrected herself, “Jackie and Fez don’t have plans with Hyde. But he’s in Chicago visiting his sister. I can’t get ahold of him.”

“Okay. Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone, honey. Maybe Micha –” she interrupted herself. “Brooke? Maybe Brooke.”

“Betsy has a dance rehearsal in Kenosha tonight,” Donna answered glumly. 

“Okay. Well –”

Eric cleared his throat.

“Hmm,” Kitty continued. “Hard to think of someone else on such short notice…”

Eric cleared his throat again, and this time everyone in the room looked at him. He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m free tonight.”

“You?” Donna said slowly.

“O-ooh,” Kitty nodded her head. “I didn’t think of that! Sure, Eric could do it.”

“I don’t think so –” Donna began, but Eric cut her off.

“Yeah,” Eric nodded, seeming to become more confident as he spoke. “Sure, I’ll do it. I mean, how hard can it be? I’ll feed her dinner, watch a movie, put her to sleep. That simple, right?”

“Her bedtime is 8:30 and Casey and I don’t need to leave until 6:00, so it will just be for a few hours.” Donna chewed on her lower lip and spoke cautiously, but it looked like she was beginning to consider the idea.

“Natalia loves ‘Mr. Eric’,” Kitty volunteered, with her signature laugh.

“And hey, we know he’s well rested,” Red added sarcastically. “He should be rearing and ready to go by 6pm, just hitting the middle of his day.”

Donna tapped her foot, and raised her nail to her mouth to chew on it subconsciously. It was a habit she’d had all their lives, and Eric recognized immediately that she was anxious and weighing her options.

“Donna, I’m a teacher now. I’m good with kids.” Eric slipped from the counter and moved to stand closer to her.

“Good?” came Red’s comment.

“I’m,” Eric faltered. “Well, fine, I’m okay with kids.” He stood closer to her now than he’d been in ages, and waited until she reluctantly brought her eyes up to meet his. “But I can promise you that I’ll take good care of Natalia. I can do this,” he assured her. “Really.”

Donna sucked in a sharp breath, and then slowly released it. “Okay,” she agreed, reluctantly. Her shoulders slumped, indicating a release of tension. “And thank you,” she added, softer.

“Anytime.” He smiled. “I’ll come over a few minutes before 6.”

*************************************************

“You almost mucked it up, you know,” Red remarked to Kitty a while later. They were in their car on the way to a UW Health clinic in Janesville, nearly two hours away. “With your underwear comment.”

“Oh, Red,” Kitty made a movement with her hand like she was swatting his words away. “Eric has no idea. You don’t need to be concerned about that.” She paused. “What you might want to be more concerned about is the shape your underwear is in,” she gave a teasing laugh. “I’ve told you before, I have a reputation to uphold!”

Red grumbled, “It does the job.” They were silent for a few moments, the hum of the Toyota’s wheels on the pavement and the flash of other cars as they passed by the only sounds between them. 

Eventually, Red grunted, “Not sure what you think this is going to accomplish, anyway.”

“The underwear?” Kitty smiled over at him from her place in the driver’s seat, clearly trying to be cheeky. The smile dropped from her face when she saw her husband’s hardened expression, though. 

“Red,” her voice was soft now, and she reached her hand towards him across the center console, wiggling her fingers at him until he took her hand in his. She squeezed a few times. “We’ve been over this. And it’s okay to be scared.”

“I’m not scared. Scared isn’t the word.”

“Fine. Then I’m scared. How’s that?”

Red sighed, clearly uncomfortable. “You know, Kitty, none of this was –”

“Your idea,” she finished for him. “I know, Red. It’s just… Dr. Granger, I worked with him for ten years, and honey, he is the closest thing to a medical genius I have ever seen. His medical trial… well, it’s your best chance.”

“It’s my only chance,” Red corrected her gruffly. “Doctors have been pretty clear about the timeline, here.” 

Kitty sniffed and pulled her hand back to the steering wheel, and Red looked over at her. She’d started crying, and reached up to dab her eyes with a tissue.

“That’s right,” she warbled, still keeping her eyes on the road. “It’s your only chance. And Red, I know… I know you’ve made peace with this. I know you say you’re ready to go. But I just, well… I’m not ready to let you go yet.” She glanced over at him with wet eyes, before darting them back to the road. “So I’m asking you to please keep fighting, okay? Please give this a shot. Even if it’s just for me.”

“Kitty,” Red swallowed, collecting his thoughts. “It’s always for you. Everything I do. And I’ve made my peace with dying, but not with leaving you. Believe me.” He glanced out the window for a few moments at the dry, Wisconsin farmland that flashed by. “So if this guy, if you think there’s a chance this might help… then I’ll try it. Okay? I’m here.”

Kitty didn’t say anything, but reached over to clasp his hand again. Slowly and deliberately, she squeezed it three times. It had always been their code, since they were teenagers and had started dating. They’d use it in situations where they wanted to communicate privately in public or in front of their parents. One squeeze meant ‘yes’, and two meant ‘no’. Three squeezes meant ‘I love you’.

****************************************************

Eric sat in the Pinciotti living room, admiring the home décor changes Donna had brought to the place. Gone was the turquoise and chrome disaster of a room he’d once criticized. The loud paint and tacky furniture had been replaced by warm tones and worn, comfy furniture. The room held a certain cozy, homey touch that Eric knew his apartment in New York lacked.

Eric sat on the cushiony grey couch with Natalia splayed out across the floor at his feet, neatly setting up her Care Bear teddies collection in order of her ‘favoritest’ to ‘yucky colors’. “This one is Good Luck Bear,” she narrated for him, carefully touching a green one’s head. “This one is Cheer Bear, and that one is Wish Bear.” She looked up at Eric thoughtfully. “Which one do you wanna play?”

“Oh, um,” Eric made a show of sizing up the bears. “Definitely Cheer Bear,” he nodded.

Immediately he could tell he’d done something wrong, because her face fell flat and she pursed her lips. “That one’s my favoritest of them all.”

“Oh. Well then you can play with that one,” Eric backtracked. “I’ll take, um. This one.” He patted a yellow teddy’s head.

“That one’s Funshine,” Natalia informed him. She picked it up and held it in Eric’s direction, but after a moment she faltered. “But it’s okay. You can be Cheer Bear. Mom says I’m a’pposed to let the guest pick first, cuz that’s being polite.”

“You know,” Eric shrugged, “I’m not really a guest. Really – it’s okay. I want you to play with Cheer Bear.”

“Natalia?” Donna’s voice rung out from the kitchen. Eric could hear the clip of high heels as she crossed the tile.

“We’re playin’ Care Bears, Mom!”

“Oh, there you guys are.” Donna had rounded the corner into the living room, and Eric swallowed hard and trained his eyes away from focusing on her body. She cleaned up well – she always had – and looked stunning in a slinky black dress with a dipping neckline and high heels. Her red hair was slicked back into a stylish, sleek ponytail. Clearly the Kelso Konstruction annual banquet was a classy, up-scale affair. Eric wouldn’t have guessed.

“Whoa,” slipped out of Eric’s mouth before he could take it back. He closed his mouth and then opened it again. “Sorry. You look – you look nice.”

“Thanks,” Donna smirked. She definitely noticed he was having trouble putting a damn sentence together. 

She turned her attention to her daughter, “Okay Natalia, you get to have a frozen dinner tonight as a special treat. I laid them out on the counter in the kitchen, so go choose one, okay?”

“Yes!” Natalia bounded up from her spot on the floor and took off for the kitchen.

“They’re frozen kids’ meals,” Donna offered to Eric. “She’ll pick the one with chicken nuggets. You just have to heat up the oven and put it in, really easy. Um, and you can…” she trailed off. “I mean, help yourself to a frozen kids’ meal if you’d like. Otherwise,” she reached around herself for her black clutch bag. “I can like, leave you money for pizza or something.”

“Don’t,” Eric stood. “Seriously. I like chicken nuggets, too.” He smiled at her.

“Okay then,” Donna returned his smile, and raised her eyebrows. “That’s easy.”

“Anything else I should know?”

“Um. I left the number for the banquet hall on the pad by the phone, for emergencies.” Donna shifted from foot to foot, thinking. “She goes to bed at 8:30, and likes you to read her a story first. And we might be kind of late – sorry.” Donna cringed. “Last year it went until, like, two A.M.”

“Wow. Big party, huh?”

“Yeah,” Donna sighed, and lifted her head to brush a strand of hair from her forehead. “I guess. Casey and his buddies like to drink a lot at these things and…” she trailed off. “It just gets rowdy. You know.” 

Eric frowned. “Is it any fun for you?”

“Of course,” Donna’s tone changed and became chirpier, as if she sensed she’d been too candid with Eric. “There’s great food and people. It’s always a good time.”

“Right.”

Natalia barreled back through the living room door. “I want the nuggets, Mom!” she announced, and wrapped her arms around her mother’s legs.

“How did I guess?” Donna smiled and leafed a hand through Natalia’s hair.

There was a sudden HONK! HONK! from the direction of the driveway.

“Oh, that’s Casey.” Donna readjusted her clutch and kissed the top of Natalia’s head before gently prying her child from her legs. “Okay, I have to go now Natalia. Be nice for Eric, okay? I’ll be here when you wake up in the morning. Promise.”

Natalia started to whine and Eric stepped forward, holding Cheer Bear and Funshine out in front of himself. “Right. Say bye to your mom, Natalia. She’ll be back soon. Bye Mom,” he pitched his voice, and made Funshine wave at Donna. “Have a good time.”

“They can’t talk, silly,” Natalia giggled, reaching out for Cheer Bear. She was successfully distracted.

Donna was occupied with the hallway mirror. She reapplied her red lipstick and nervously straightened her dress. When she looked back to Natalia one last time, Eric caught her eye. “You really do look amazing,” he told her sincerely. “Have a good time, okay? We’ll be here.”

“Thanks, Eric.” She released a nervous breath, and took a step closer to him. “You know, I really do appreciate – ”

HONK! HONK, HONK!

Donna shook her head, flustered at the disruption. “Guess I’ve gotta go,” she rolled her eyes, a hint of annoyance flashing across her features. But in the next moment she readjusted her clutch, and the expression on her face fell away. “Goodnight,” she said, softly, and started backing out of the room quietly, so as not to disturb Natalia. 

“Night,” Eric replied. He felt a stab of pain at the thought that Casey Kelso – rude, honks for you from the driveway, Casey Kelso – got to enjoy her tonight. She was a vision in that dress, and even better company at an event like this. Eric swallowed hard to redirect his thoughts – after all, he had some babysitting to do.

***************************************************

“What is this?” Pam asked for at least the third time, gesturing to her dish with her fork. She was seated around the apartment’s small kitchen table, along with Jackie, Fez, an open bottle of wine and an abundance of home cooked Thai food. Jackie began to roll her eyes, but Fez smiled with patience.

“Curry. Creamy red chicken curry over rice,” he supplied.

“Oh, it’s so good!” Pam made a show of rolling her eyes towards the sky and leaning back in her chair in bliss. “I don’t even want to know the calorie count.” She winked at Jackie, like it was an inside joke.

“Thank you – again, Pamela. It is one of my new favorites dishes to cook for my love.” Fez turned to Jackie and smiled, and Jackie smiled back and took his hand.

“So it’s a cultural dish?” Pam probed. “From your home country?”

Fez laughed. “Oh, no, I am not Thai. I’m –”

“Mom!” Jackie screeched, interrupting the end of Fez’s sentence. Pam had reached over towards Fez, and set a hand on his upper leg suggestively. “Let go of him!” As an afterthought, she corked the bottle of wine. “I think that’s enough for you,” she grumbled under her breath.

“Oh Jackie, calm down,” Pam groaned, but she removed her hand from Fez’s leg. “I’m a touchy person – you know this. It’s just how I express my love.”

“It’s okay, Jackie,” Fez insisted, but his facial expression revealed how uncomfortable he was. He scooted his chair a few inches away from Pam’s side of the table and towards Jackie’s. “We’re all just getting to know each other.”

“That’s right,” Pam playfully smacked the side of Fez’s arm in agreement. “Thank you!” She reached for the bottle of wine Jackie had corked, reopened it, and poured herself a generous glass. 

“I don’t know where you found him, Jackie, but I have to say that I approve. He’s just so… exotic. And suave.” She took a sip of her wine, leaving a remnant of a red wine above her lip like a mustache, and winked across the table at Fez.   
“He might not be the best-looking man you’ve ever dated,” she continued. “I mean… it’s hard to beat that one from high school. Michael?”

Fez put his hands in front of himself and chuckled. “Oh, I would never disagree. Michael Kelso is a work of art.”

“…And he’s not rich,” Pam continued, as if Fez hadn’t spoken. “But still. Even so. I think he’s nice.”

“He’s more than nice, mom,” Jackie sneered. She moved to wrap her arm in Fez’s. “He’s caring, thoughtful, spoils me, and wants the same things I do. That’s what’s important to me now.” She gazed at Fez, and he smiled back at her easily. “Those other things, what you said? They don’t matter. This matters.”

“…Oh and don’t even get me started on how awful that Steven Hyde was,” Pam continued. 

Jackie dropped Fez’s arm from hers and brought her hand to her forehead in frustration. Her mother had always been like this, she now realized - especially when she was drinking. She had no regard for anyone else in the room or what they were saying. It was Jackie’s worst nightmare to become like her. 

“He was dirty, poor, and just awful to you, darling.”

Fez frowned. He had reached over to place a comforting arm around Jackie’s back. “Hyde is a friend of ours,” he said.

“A friend?” Pam laughed condescendingly. “Oh, Jackie. You need to move on from high school and meet some new people. Like… like, um… like…Fez here.” She clearly struggled to recall his name.

“I met Fez in high school, mom. We were all part of the same group of friends.”

“Really?” Pam seemed shocked. “I don’t remember you kids ever hanging out with someone so… ethnic.”

“You mean ‘not white’?” Jackie gritted her teeth, becoming more and more infuriated with and embarrassed by her mom. Thankfully, Fez intervened smoothly.

“Ah, yes. It’s easy to forget, my dear, I understand.” He squeezed Jackie’s shoulder reassuringly. “I was a foreign exchange student. I lived with the Erdmann’s.”

“Oh, Michelle Erdmann,” Pam nodded along, sloshing a bit of wine out of her glass and onto the table in the process. “I remember her. She was a bit of an alcoholic, wasn’t she?”

Jackie’s eyebrows shot up at the hypocrisy, and at almost the same moment, there was a loud knock on the door of their apartment. The entry way was around the corner from their kitchen, and Jackie sprang to her feet before anyone else could. “I’ll get that,” she announced. Perfect timing. She needed a break from her mother.

She padded around the corner and eased the door open, expecting a door-to-door salesman or perhaps their cranky landlord Louise. Instead it was Steven standing there in the dim light of the apartment building’s hallway, and Jackie swallowed her small gasp. 

“I can’t talk now,” she hissed.

“It’s an emergency,” Hyde whispered back, his eyebrows raised. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his brown overcoat, and he looked anxious.

“Who is it?” Fez called from the kitchen.

Jackie gave Hyde a bug-eyed look, and he shook his head and mouthed, “Not me,”

“It’s, um. A saleswoman. She’s selling beauty products,” Jackie called back over her shoulder. “I’m gonna step outside and look at her catalogue, okay? I’ll be right back.”

She didn’t waste time in waiting for Fez’s response, and instead stepped out into the hallway with Steven and closed the apartment door behind her. “We can’t talk here,” she muttered. “My mother and Fez are right inside that door.”

“Follow me.” Hyde turned around and led her a few feet down, to the apartment stairwell. He opened the heavy door and held it while Jackie stepped through, and then shut it quietly behind them. 

“I thought you were in Chicago,” Jackie started in as soon as the door closed.

“I was. Just got back.”

“This really isn’t a good time, Steven. I mean it. My mom’s here. She’s drunk, like always but,” Jackie hesitated, searching Hyde’s eyes before pushing forward. “But I think Fez is about to ask for her blessing to propose to me.”

Hyde’s expression settled into a hard one. “Okay. Why are you telling me this?”

Jackie frowned, immediately noticing his change in demeanor, and narrowed her eyes. “Why are you here? What’s the emergency?”

Hyde cleared his throat. “Casey Kelso knows about us.”

“Us?”

“You, me. Fucking behind Fez’s back.”

“How could he –”

“No clue. But he knows. And I don’t trust him with the information.”

Jackie bit her lip. “You don’t think he would tell Donna, do you? Or Michael?”

“Don’t know what he’s capable of, Jackie. Could be any of that, or worse.”

“So what are you saying?” Jackie asked, a panicked edge to her voice. “That we should just – just break-up right now?”

Hyde laughed joylessly. “What do you mean ‘break-up’, Jackie? That would imply there’s a relationship here to break. We were never together, that’s never what this was about. Besides,” he paused, gave a shrug, and moved his body away from her imperceptibly. “You won’t be lonely for long, will ya?”

Jackie’s jaw set, and she crossed her arms across her chest. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Hyde shrugged. “C’mon, Jackie. You’ve been hopping from one guy to another in this town for years. Next it’s Fez’s turn. Right?”

“Are you calling me a whore, Steven?” The implication was clear: I dare you.

Hyde raised an eyebrow. “If the shoes fits.”

Jackie scoffed, and turned away from him to hide the burning in her eyes. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her tear up. She placed her hand on the door to the stairwell and prepared to walk away, but before she did she said, evenly, her gaze on the expansive cream surface of the security door, “You know what, Steven? You were the only one who never called me those names.” 

And she was gone.

*******************************************************

“You’re missing everything here,” Eric’s friend and producer, Bill, insisted. Eric sat on a stool in the Pinciotti kitchen, his hand curled around the cord from the phone. Natalia had gone to sleep a few hours ago. “Parties, press events, new releases. You’re missing it all,” Bill insisted.

“I don’t see it that way,” Eric smiled.

“You sound happy. Did you have a date tonight or something?” Bill guessed. “A little early to be home, isn’t it?”

“Kinda, yeah,” Eric’s smile widened. “Tell you the truth, it was the best first date I’ve been on in ages. She wore footie pajamas, and laughed at all my jokes. Then we had chicken nuggets and played with Care Bears.”

“Uh,” Bill hesitated. “Now you’re losing me. This some weird Wisconsin fetish shit?”

“No. God, no. I’m talking about Natalia,” Eric explained. “I got to stay with her tonight. We had a good time, that’s all.”

“Care Bears?”

“Yeah, Bill. She’s 4.”

“Alright, alright. It just,” Bill hesitated. “It sounds like you’re getting kind of attached.”

“Maybe I am.”

“And maybe she’s not your kid,” Bill responded. “Right?”

Now Eric hesitated. “I know that’s what Donna says but I just… I have a hard time believing it. It’s hard to explain, Bill. I just… I just know she’s mine. She has to be.”

“Well, what if she’s not?”

“What do you mean?” Eric blinked.

“I mean – would you stay? Would you still want Donna back?”

“Who said anything about wanting to get back together with Donna?”

“I’ve been your friend for too long, Eric. I can read between the lines. And as your friend, I’m just saying that I don’t want to see you get hurt again, okay? I was there the last time it all broke down with her and I just… I just don’t want to see you back in that place.”

“I’m not.”

“Not yet.”

“Alright. I appreciate the concern, man, but really, I’m good here. Okay?”

“Still thinking about that sequel?” Bill changed the topic.

Eric hesitated. “Still thinking about writing. But I’m excited about some new ideas.”

“Hmmm.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means: hmmm. I’m thinking.”

“About what?”

“Your career, Eric. It’s my job.”

After a few more minutes of banter, they ended the call. Eric didn’t want to rack up too many long-distance minutes on Donna’s phone line. He wondered a bit about what Bill said – some of his questions had caught Eric off guard. Would he stay if Natalia wasn’t really his, if Donna’s Pete Peterson story was actually true? He didn’t know. Did he have a future as a writer if he didn’t continue with a Small Pond sequel? He didn’t know that either.

The front door burst open, startling Eric from his thoughts. It was Donna, her heels in her hand and a gigantic smile on her face. 

“Eric!” she shouted excitedly, before lifting up her right hand to show him the gleaming ring on her finger. 

“Casey proposed! We’re engaged!”


	11. XI

Chapter 11 (XI)  
November, 1984

It was a brisk, early November afternoon and Kitty and Red sat at their kitchen table, as they did most afternoons. Red, as usual, looked grumpy and mildly uncomfortable. Kitty prattled on about what she planned to make for dinner that evening.

“Oh, Eric,” Kitty greeted her son as he walked through the swinging kitchen door. “Would you be a dear and go get the chicken out of the freezer in the basement for me? Your father’s been feeling stiff all day.”

“Sure mom.”

It was as quick as that.

When Eric got back upstairs, heaving the frozen chicken with some considerable effort, he found Red on the floor and his mother at the wall making a frantic phone call.

“What’s going on?”

“Take this,” Kitty shoved the phone into Eric’s hand. “He fell. We need an ambulance.” She rushed to Red’s side, taking his hand with one of hers while the other one rested gently atop his chest. “Breathe, Red,” she coached, with the practiced ease of a nurse. “Breathe.”

**************************************************

“Oh my god, is he okay?” Jackie and Fez burst through the doors to the hospital waiting room first, followed closely by Brooke, Kelso, and young Betsy, who clung to her favorite doll. Jackie ran right up to Eric and engulfed him in an awkward but sincere hug.

“I – I don’t know,” Eric sputtered, as they moved away. “I don’t know anything yet, except that they’ve moved him up here, to neurology.” 

“Urology?” Kelso interjected. “Oh. So it’s a problem with his,” he lowered his voice and looked away from Betsy, “Parts?”

“He said ‘nuero-’ not ‘uro-’, you dillhole.” Hyde had arrived, and he frogged Kelso in the shoulder as he spoke.

“Is that his brain?” Fez asked nervously.

“No, his nerves. What do we know, Forman?” Hyde gestured for the group to make their way to a cluster of chairs, and they all followed his direction and sat down, spreading their coats out on the chairs as if they were settling in for an extended stay.

“I don’t know anything,” Eric shared glumly. “He went into the ER and they took him back immediately.” He checked his wristwatch. “Maybe twenty minutes ago they told me he was moved up here. My mom is back there with him now. The nurse at the desk said his doctors will come out here to update me when they can.”

“He just collapsed out of nowhere?” Jackie asked. She’d wiggled out of her coat, and now set her purse down at her feet.

“Right before dinner,” Eric confirmed. “He was having trouble breathing in the ambulance on the way here, too.”

“Shit,” Hyde mumbled, mostly to himself.

“Yeah, shit,” Eric echoed.

“We’ll stay with you until they have an update, Eric,” Fez volunteered. “Mr. Red, he was like a father to all of us.”

“Thanks guys.” The truth was, this still felt surreal. Like one of those times when he was having a vivid dream, and then woke up, and couldn’t be sure if he was back in reality or still dreaming. Never, not once in his twenty-five years, had he seen Red that way before. The image of him strewn across the kitchen floor, chest heaving and eyes wild – truly scared. It haunted Eric.

“Soooo, they got a food court here, or what?”

“Kelso. Seriously? You’ve been here for maybe five minutes.”

“Well it’s dinner time, Hyde,” Kelso exclaimed. “Excuse me. I’m sad about Red, but I’m also hungry.”

“Down the hall,” Eric pointed limply.

Brooke smiled sympathetically, and lifted her arms to guide Kelso and Betsy down the hallway as if they were both her children. Jackie and Fez had their heads close together, and were talking about something Eric couldn’t hear. Next to him, Hyde leaned forward so that his elbows rested on the tops of his knees.

“Talked to Laurie?” he asked quietly.

Eric snorted. “Tried. I called the last number my parents had for her – some place in Arkansas. Some old guy answered and said he’d never heard of her.”

“Figures.” Hyde rolled his fingers over one another, staring at his shoes rather than looking up at Eric. He wanted to say something, Eric could tell. Finally, after a few more moments, Hyde quietly asked the question that had been on his mind, “You think it’s bad?” 

Eric swallowed hard. “Yeah. I think it’s bad.”

Hyde didn’t say anything, but he inhaled deeply and stood, removed his sunglasses, and began to pace around the waiting room. Eric understood. It was time to prepare.

*****************************************

“Jackie.”

Jackie, preoccupied with choosing a snack from the vending machine, whirled around, startled. When she saw who was speaking to her, she rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the vending machine. “Steven,” she replied, curtly.

“Can’t believe this is happening, man.” His voice was soft and he’d taken a few steps towards her. Jackie felt herself start to soften, but then shook her shoulders back and steadied her resolve.

“It’s awful what’s happening to Mr. Forman,” Jackie agreed, as she fed her money into the machine and entered her selection for pretzels. “He and Mrs. Forman, they’re such good people. They just don’t deserve this.”

“Yeah.”

Jackie turned around with her pretzels in her hand, and couldn’t help but feel trapped. Steven stood between herself and the doorway where all their friends sat. A part of her ached to pull him into her arms and to soothe him with a warm hug and pets to his hair, which he’d never admit he liked, but she knew he secretly did. Steven had lost father figure after father figure throughout his life, and here he stood, poised to lose one more. None of it was lost on Jackie.

But the sting of their last conversation still lingered. She’d thought Steven was a good man, a changed man. But good men didn’t call women whores. Especially not women they loved.

“Look, Steven,” she straightened her back with resolve. “Fez and I are here to support the Forman’s, okay? That’s it.”

“I know.”

“So I don’t have time for… whatever this is,” she gestured between them. “There’s no respect left between us. You made that clear the other night. So honestly, Steven, the best thing you can do is just leave me alone.”

She brushed passed him with her pretzels, and he didn’t try to stop her. Leaving Steven behind both physically and metaphorically hurt, and Jackie swallowed back the sob she felt forming in her chest. But she had to start establishing boundaries. Better late than never.

**********************************************

Eric took a walk on the grounds just outside the hospital. Just to get away, just for a moment. The sun was starting to set, and Eric gazed at the pink and purple masterpiece mother nature had splashed across the skies. Fleetingly, he wondered if Red had seen his last sunset. He shook the thought from his mind. It was too early for… that. And comprehending a world where he existed without his father – well, Eric didn’t know if he’d ever be ready for that.

When he re-entered the hospital waiting room, he noticed that Donna, Natalia, and Casey had arrived. While Casey was up at the front desk getting information from the nurse (or hitting on her – it was anyone’s guess), Donna bounced a blissfully oblivious Natalia on her knee. When Donna saw him enter she stopped, and lowered Natalia to the ground so she could stand and greet him.

“I’m so sorry, Eric,” Donna murmured, as he got nearer. “We came as soon as we heard.”

Eric felt a pang of guilt for not calling her right away, when he’d called the rest of the gang. Given her close relationship with his parents, he knew he should’ve. But he hadn’t wanted her to think he expected, or needed, her to be there to comfort him. He’d sort of wanted to see if she’d come on her own. And she did.

“Thanks for coming,” he acknowledged.

“Of course.”

Eric glanced around the room, and felt his heart swell at the amount of love and support he felt from his friends. Kelso (after downing some ala carte French fries from the hospital cafeteria) was snuggled up in a waiting room chair, reading a story to Betsy. Jackie and Fez were seated comically at a small table set up in the kid’s corner of the waiting room, engaged in a heated game of Candy Land. Hyde hadn’t stopped his pacing, but he chatted with Donna and Natalia casually as he did so. Eric sunk down into a chair, and let his forehead come to rest in his hands. He couldn’t imagine doing this alone. Thank god he didn’t have to.

“So where’s that pretty little Mrs. Forman?” A slimy voice intruded upon Eric’s moment of peace. Casey. “I’ve got a little something here,” Casey gestured to the bouquet of flowers he held in his left hand, “For my biggest fan.”

“She’s back with my dad right now,” Eric focused on keeping his voice even. “But I can give them to her later.” He reached his hands out, and Casey sneered at him.

“Oh, c’mon. You’re telling me she wouldn’t make an appearance for a special delivery?” 

“Casey.” Donna, who had been watching the exchange from across the room, intervened. “Now isn’t the time. Eric’ll get them to her. Right?”

Eric locked eyes with Donna. “Right.”

Sensing that he was beat, Casey sighed and handed the bouquet over to Eric. “Well, if you insist.” He paused, and put on a cheesy, fake smile. “You let her know we’re all rootin’ for her and Red.”

“Uh. Thanks. I will.”

Noticing that Hyde was preoccupying Natalia with a piggyback ride, Donna pulled Casey into a corner of the waiting room. “Hey, I think I’m gonna need to stay for a while,” Donna told him. “Maybe even overnight. Will you take Natalia home, and stay with her? She doesn’t need to see all of this.”

Casey balked. “Why in the world would you need to stay here overnight?”

“The Formans were my second parents,” Donna shrugged. “For all of us when we were growing up – ask your brother. I just,” she hesitated. “I need to make sure they’re all okay. It’s important to me.”

“Well if you stay, we can all stay,” Casey began, but Donna shook her head and cut him off.

“Not Natalia. I don’t want her here for this – it’s too much to explain and I don’t want her to be scared. So please take her home, okay?” When Casey still didn’t look convinced, Donna grabbed the front of his jacket and shook it lightheartedly. “At least then I’ll know she’s with someone I trust.”

“Yeah but how do I know –”

“How do you know, what?” Donna cut him off, her eyebrows raised. “Look, I need you to do this. Can you just do it? Please?”

Casey paused for a long moment, then said, “You drive a hard bargain, Pinciotti. But yes, ma’am.” He tipped an imaginary cowboy hat.

“Don’t forget, she needs a story before bed,” Donna reminded him, smiling.

“That can be arranged,” Casey gave her a charming smile. He pulled her into his arms possessively, and leaned in close to her ear. “Just know,” he started, “That if you don’t come home tonight, then I’m swinging by this waiting room first thing in the morning with a cappuccino and a muffin for you. Got it?”

Donna reached up to caress his cheeks. “That sounds amazing. And thank you,” she hesitated. “For understanding.”

“Anything to make my lady happy,” Casey winked. “Hey Nat,” he turned his attention to the other end of the waiting room. “Let’s go. We can swing by my friend McDonald’s on our way home.”

Donna crossed her arms, and watched as Casey and Natalia left. It was hard to be without her daughter, who she was practically attached to at the hip, for even one night. But if she and Casey were going to have a future together, then it needed to include a Natalia who was comfortable with Casey as her father figure. She knew that Casey had it in him. They just needed more time together, to bond.

************************************************

Eric’s watch beeped at him, indicating it was now midnight.

Hyde had left just a little while ago, saying he was going to head home to sleep for a few hours before checking back first thing in the morning. Brooke and Kelso had left around 9:30, because they needed to get Betsy home and to bed for school the next morning. Jackie and Fez had called it quits a few hours later, but had promised to come around the next morning if Red was still being treated. 

Each time one of his friends regretfully bowed out, Eric understood. It had been a long night, and aside from the update a few hours ago from a nurse that he was currently being placed on a ventilator to help him breathe, they didn’t know anything more than they had when they’d arrived. As much as it felt good to have their support, Eric knew that his friends staying at the hospital with him wouldn’t make a difference to Red’s prognosis. Besides, they’d be back to check in again in the morning.

That reasoning didn’t work on Donna, though. Eric had hinted, and then outright stated, that it was fine for Donna to go home and that he’d be fine at the hospital alone overnight.

She’d just shaken her head. “I know what it feels like to be alone and scared in a hospital waiting room,” she’d shared with him. “My dad had a heart attack last year.”

Bob was fine and was now living a happy (and probably gross) life with Joanne, who he’d reunited with down in Florida and had gone on to marry. They lived in a senior living community down near Tampa, but were talking about relocating to Wisconsin soon to be closer to Donna and Natalia.

“He came through it,” Donna had gone on to explain. “But it was one of the scariest moments of my life. To see my dad – the person who raised me, who I always looked up to – so helpless, and not knowing if he was going to die or not…” she had shaken her head, and looked to the floor. “I don’t have any siblings, you know, and so I just went through it by myself. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone else.”

“Even me?”

She had smirked. “Even you.”

Now she sat across from Eric, both of them spread out across a row of uncomfortable waiting room seating. They hadn’t spoken in nearly thirty minutes, and Donna’s head was turned down into her sweater. Eric wondered if she was sleeping. Several of the other people who still occupied the waiting room obviously were. The overhead lights had been dimmed. A nurse manned the front desk overnight, but otherwise they were alone, the occasional announcement over the hospital loudspeaker the only thing to interrupt the quiet.

“Eric,” Donna’s whisper rang out across the cold tile of the waiting room.

“Hmm?”

There was a long pause, and then she seemed to take back what she’d started. “Never mind.”

Now intrigued, Eric shifted his shoulder and elbow so that he was propped up, and looking straight across at Donna. “No, really. What?”

Donna did the same, and then shook her head. “It’s stupid.”

“Try me.”

She paused for so long Eric almost questioned whether she’d heard him. Then, finally, in a broken voice she whispered, “Did you ever miss me?”

“What?” he whispered lowly, unsure he’d heard her correctly.

“Did you ever miss me?” she repeated, her voice stronger than before. “When you were in Africa. Or New York?”

Eric swallowed hard. “Yes,” he whispered, hoarsely at first. “Of course I did.” Donna was silent for almost a minute, so he continued. “I didn’t… Donna, I didn’t know what to say. Nothing that happened was planned, you know? And looking back now… I – I regret it. I made mistakes.” More silence followed his confession, so he swallowed his fear and decided to ask her a question that had been burning in the back of his mind. “Did you love that, ah, guy? Pete Peterson, or whatever?”

Donna sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “No,” she finally spoke, so softly that Eric had to crane to hear it. “I didn’t. And I made some mistakes, too.”

“Was he here?” Eric asked quietly. “When she was born? Her dad.”

“No,” Donna shook her head. “He wasn’t. Just my mom, and Jackie.”

The two of them were silent for a long couple of moments, both sitting with the confessions they’d both made and heard. 

Eric was the next to speak. “Do you – do you still write?” he asked tentatively. “I mean, outside of your job. Like, stories. Like you used to.”

Donna laughed. “I didn’t for the longest time,” she admitted. “I just felt…dried up. But in the last couple of years, I’ve started to. Just a piece here or there. I send them to literary magazines and don’t get a response, so…” she trailed off, shrugging.

“I’m glad,” Eric whispered. “Not that – not that you’re not getting published,” he clarified quickly. “But that you’re writing again. Because you always had a gift for that.”

“That’s nice of you to say, but –”

“No, you really did,” Eric interrupted her. “I’m not just saying that. I’d love to read your stuff.”

“Yeah,” Donna scoffed. “Right.”

“I would,” Eric insisted. “Any time.”

A few more minutes of silence passed before Donna asked, almost reluctantly, “So what was New York like?” Eric detected an edge of bitterness in her voice. “There must’ve been something pretty special there to keep you away for five years.”

Eric paused before answering, collecting his thoughts. “It wasn’t anything special,” he finally decided on. “You know what really happened? I quit my program in Africa without telling a soul. I just got on a plane, and left. I flew to New York, because that was the cheapest flight.”

“You didn’t tell anyone that you quit?”

“Nope.” Eric sighed. “It just… wasn’t what I had thought it would be. We were out in the middle of nowhere, and had roomfuls of kids to teach every day. Kids who wanted to be there, but had just never been to school before. A lot of them didn’t speak English. We didn’t have any training or supplies, and I just… felt useless.” He paused, weighing her reaction. Her facial expression didn’t tell him anything, but she was listening. “After a couple of months I realized I just… wasn’t up for it. And I’m ashamed of that,” he finished lowly. “Truth be told, I still don’t think I’m up for it. Teaching.” He swallowed hard.

“So what happened after you left Africa?” 

“I got to New York,” Eric explained. “I didn’t feel like I could fly home and explain… I don’t know. Another failure, I guess. I didn’t want to go back home empty handed, when I left to make money for college.”

“How could you stay away for five years, though?” Donna asked him. “That’s the part I – we –” she corrected herself. “We don’t understand.”

Eric sighed, and shrugged. “I made it work in New York for a few months. I worked as a bartender, cleaned dishes, that type of thing. I really thought I would stay there for a few months, do some soul searching and some growing up, and then head back to Point Place with a new plan. I really did.”

“So what happened?”

“Things got pretty… dark for a while there. I was confused. I was alone. I started to get pissed off about how my life wasn’t turning out the way I’d wanted it to. And I wrote Small Pond,” he cleared his throat. “From that… um, place.” Donna raised an eyebrow, a silent question playing across her features. “A few months later my old roommate from Africa, Bill, made contact. He was back, and working for a publishing house in New York. And the rest is history.” Eric shrugged.

“And once Small Pond got published, you couldn’t come back because of what you wrote about all of us,” Donna continued for him. “Right?”

“Right.” Eric’s eyes shot up to meet Donna’s, and she sighed and then looked away.

She was quiet for a long time. Eric worried she didn’t believe that he was being sincere, or maybe that she didn’t want to talk to him anymore now that she knew the pathetic truth. He scrambled for something to say, something that would comfort her or assure her that he knew what he’d done wasn’t okay –

“It really fucked me up, you know?” Her voice was hoarse, and she focused on her shoe sliding across the surface of the tile floor rather than him. “Your book,” she added. “The way you wrote ‘Dawn’, it just –”

“It wasn’t fair,” Eric interrupted her. “It wasn’t okay. I know that and Donna, I’m sorry. I really, really am.”

“It hurt me,” Donna continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “It broke me, I think. And not because it was mean, but because I think it was right.”

“It wasn’t –”

“Just listen, okay?” Her eyes finally met his, and they bore right through him like a laser beam. Eric gulped and nodded his understanding, and Donna continued. “I always had all these big dreams, you know? I was gonna travel and see the world, I was gonna have a kickass job that really meant something, I wanted to change the world…” she trailed off. “And then instead, I had a kid. A really, really great kid,” she immediately clarified. “But then I was a single mother, and all of that was off the table. All those dreams I had, they were over. But you got to live them. And I think,” she reached up to dab at her eyes again. Eric hadn’t even realized she’d started to cry. “I think that’s why I hate you.”

“You hate me?” Eric’s voice was softer than it had been all night.

“I want to,” Donna spoke honestly in the protection of the twilight. “I – Eric, I really want to.” She released a heavy sigh. “But you make it difficult.”

“Donna, look, I know you’re jealous of what I have –”

“I’m not jealous,” she spat, indignant.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’m doing it again, huh? That whole thing where I mess up what I’m trying to say and end up being offensive? That trait that people pretend to be angry about but really find endearing –”

“Yeah,” Donna snarled. “You’re doing it again.”

“Right.” Eric took a deep breath to regroup. “What I’m trying to say, Donna,” he began. “Is that I might have success on paper, with my novel and the movie. But that’s literally all I have. When I leave a meeting or a press event and go home, I’m all alone. When something funny happens and I want to call someone right away to tell them about it, I have no one. What you have with Natalia, the family you’ve created…” he trailed off, wistfully. “I would give anything for that.”

Donna thought about what he’d said for a moment and looked like she was about to respond, when the door behind the nurses’ station swung open, momentarily flooding the waiting room with crisp, white light. A young, female doctor stepped forward into the waiting room and lowered her protective facial mask. “Is the family of Reginald Forman present?” she called.

*****************************************************

Hyde sat alone in his truck, parked at the far end of the hospital parking lot. It had been a few hours now since he’d left the waiting room, but he didn’t know where else to go. He couldn’t fathom going home to his small, dingy apartment while Red could be taking his last breaths. The bar might’ve been a logical next choice, but he already did that most nights. Plus, he glanced at his watch, it was already nearing last call.

He would’ve stayed in the waiting room all night, but Forman and Donna seemed like they needed some alone time to finally god damn talk to each other. One by one their friends had made their excuses and headed home, and eventually Hyde had picked up on the tension between the former flames and had said his goodbyes, too. 

So now he was here. Alone in his truck.

His stomach growled loudly, and Hyde patted it, remembering for the first time that it had been half a day since he’d last eaten. It didn’t matter. With the sudden very possible demise of a man who Hyde cared about and who had taught him important things about being a man, nothing mattered. Except maybe Jackie.

He closed his eyes, and he could still hear their last conversation before that night playing out, crystal clear.

“C’mon Jackie,” his own words rang through his mind. “You’ve been hopping from one guy to another in this town for years. Next it’s Fez’s turn, right?”

“Are you calling me a whore, Steven?” He could still picture the hurt in her eyes, and hear the hitch in her voice.

“If the shoe fits.”

“You know what, Steven? You were the only one who never called me those names.”

It had been intentional, of course – his choice to imply something about Jackie that he’d known she would find unforgiveable. Her reaction to him today at the hospital had all but confirmed that he was cancelled, and she’d never speak to him again. As soon as Casey Kelso had revealed his knowledge of their affair and his potential to blackmail one or both of them with the information, Hyde knew it had to end. Point Place was a small town, and this information getting out could screw over a lot more than just himself and Jackie. 

So his name calling and asshole behavior would make it easy for Jackie to walk away from him, to have a clean break. To turn all of her attention to Fez, who was the type of person who really deserved Jackie anyway, and would give her the things she wanted. Marriage, a big house, a couple of kids… Hyde could never promise any of those things. And Fez, well, he could.  
Fez had always been the logical choice, Hyde continued to reason with himself. Himself and Jackie, they’d been young and passionate, but destined to burn out eventually. And now they had. Jackie would go ahead and settle into the comfortable life she desired with Fez, and Hyde would – he frowned. He wasn’t sure what his future held. But he knew that from where he was sitting, it looked bleak.

***********************************************

“I’m sorry,” Eric muttered. “Could you – could you say it for me again?”

“Your father has ALS, or amyotrophic lateral sclerosis,” the young doctor repeated kindly. “It’s a neurological disease that affects nerve cells responsible for controlling voluntary movement. In the past few months you might’ve noticed that your father had stiffness and weakness in his arms and legs.” Eric nodded, wordlessly. “He’s been showing signs of fatigue, twitching muscles that he cannot control, and those muscles have been atrophying, making him appear smaller and weaker.” Again, Eric nodded. “Unfortunately, your father’s disease has started to progress to his lungs and his heart. He wasn’t able to breathe normally, and that led to his collapse and admittance to the hospital today.”

“Right,” Eric nodded, numbly. “So does that mean… I mean, is he…?”

“He is alive,” the doctor confirmed, and Eric felt his heart leap up into his throat with relief. “We have him on a ventilator to help him breathe, and hope that we can remove that in the next couple of days so that he can return home. Your mother is with him now. She does not wish to leave his side.”

“Okay,” Eric frantically gathered his thoughts. “Okay. So he gets to go home?”

“Yes. For now.” The doctor frowned. “Unfortunately, we can expect your father’s condition to deteriorate quite rapidly over the next several weeks, now that the disease is showing signs of affecting his respiratory system.”

“What’s his, um,” Eric fumbled. “How much time does he have?”

“Months,” the doctor answered. “Maybe weeks. I am so sorry.”

“He’ll be dead in a few weeks?”

“It may be,” the doctor shrugged. “People with ALS… some of them go so quickly, and some of them live for years with the disease. But with the symptoms your father is showing, we assume the former. I am so sorry,” she repeated, and slid her mask back up onto her face. “I need to go back now, to monitor his ventilator. I can come back in the morning, to give you an update.”

“Yeah,” Eric agreed numbly. “Please do.”

As the doctor made her way back to the patients’ area, Eric walked limply over to his chair and then dropped into it unceremoniously. He eased his head forward, and into his hands. Red was alive, and his heart leapt at the fact. But he was actively dying of a vicious disease, and Eric didn’t know how to begin to process that. Silently, he began to shake. His eyes were bone dry - they betrayed him, and wouldn’t release his tears of grief. But it wracked his whole body.

Within moments, he felt a warm hand smooth across the expanse of his back. She didn’t say anything, but instinctively he knew Donna was there. It was the first time she had touched him, intentionally, since his return.

“He’ll be dead in a few weeks,” Eric croaked. “Or months.”

“I know,” Donna didn’t stop rubbing his back. “I overheard. I’m so sorry, Eric.”

The tears still refused to come, but Eric heaved, his chest filled with grief. “He knew,” he said lowly, returning to a sitting position so he could look at Donna. “She said he knew. For more than a year.” Slowly, Eric started to shake his head. “I should’ve been here. I should’ve…”

“Eric,” Donna grabbed his forearm. “You couldn’t have stopped this, even if you were here. It’s a disease.”

“But I could’ve spent more time with him. Helped my,” he choked. “My mom.”

“You didn’t know.”

“Still,” Eric shook his head. “I can’t believe they didn’t tell me.”

Donna still kept her grip on his forearm. “I know it might not make sense,” she began. “But I really think they were trying to protect you.”

“From what?”

“From this.” She shrugged. “This grief.” She released her grip on him, and leaned back into her uncomfortable chair. Eric did the same, and met her eyes. “I mean, Eric, you’ve got to understand… we all thought you were out there in New York thriving. Living the life you’d always wanted. Maybe your parents just,” she paused. “Didn’t want to take that away from you. They thought you were happy, and that comforted them.”

Eric shook his head. “They still should’ve told me.”

“Sometimes people make illogical choices when it comes down to protecting their kids,” Donna shrugged. “It’s not always right in hindsight, but it’s this protective instinct that just takes over. I think one day you’ll understand.”

*************************************************

“Welcome ho-ooo-me,” Kitty cheered in a singsong-y voice. She pushed Red’s wheelchair carefully over the barrier of the screened-in door, and wheeled him into their kitchen. “Four days away and you’re finally back. Aren’t you so happy?”

“Happy isn’t really the word,” Red retorted.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Crabbypants. Now, we’ve set up a bed for you in the lounge off the front stairs, and we’re going to get you all settled in there,” Kitty narrated as she pushed him through the swinging kitchen door. Since his disease had progressed, any additional stress on his heart and his lungs was discouraged, and so they’d created a space for him that he could access without having to use the stairs.

Eric entered the kitchen a few moments after his parents, holding the suitcase he’d carefully packed for his mother in one hand and the pile of documents they’d received upon Red’s release from the hospital in the other. He dropped the documents onto the kitchen counter hastily, and noticed the two foil-covered pans of lasagna someone had thoughtfully dropped off. He used both hands to lift one of the pans, intending to transfer it to the refrigerator, when he noticed the manila file that was underneath it. Curiously, he set down the pan and lifted open the file, quickly leafing through its contents. On top was a poem, titled “She Laughs In Sunshine”. Underneath that, what appeared to be a short story titled, “Where The Lilies Live”. There were more underneath that.

Eric smiled as soon as he realized what it was – Donna’s writing.


End file.
